Mirror Stage

When I looked into my reflection, I saw someone— Unworthy; Of love, of care, Of me. And when I acted— Devoting myself To changing that image— That’s when I learned What it meant To become a mirror. At first, I thought the mirror was for me. To see myself clearer, To love what I could not love before. And so I embraced it, Dedicating strife to life, Life to love, Love to you. And in giving that love, I held out to you— A mirror now turned outward. And when I offered my hand, Hoping for yours to meet it, You reached back. Your gaze—warm and comforting. Your intent—meaningful, fulfilling. I felt full, And the cracks in my soul Seemed to fill— Rejuvenated with new life. We talked of rebirth; Our own renaissance That’d renew the way We loved another. And I followed behind— Blindly— Because I saw you only As the path forward. Yet with every step, I saw your eyes flicker— A shadow beneath the warmth. And so when I looked back At our hands, reaching— And saw you, Much like the Creation of Adam, Hesitating To touch my palm— It was Sunder. But even then, I searched your gaze— And in my own eyes, I saw the reflection of you. I saw you. Your humanity. Your wounded flesh. And I wept for you. I could never look to you, See the scarlet in your soul, And condemn you. To me, You were a victim of life— The only transgression Being human. And even as that color Spilled from your spirit And passed its hurt Into mine— I wept for you still. But, As your hand retracts from me, Further And further— And as I weep and cry— For your humanity, Your innocence, Your love— I can see clearly. This love I offered— This mirror I became— Was never one you could face. Loving me Meant seeing yourself. This whole time, I had been the mirror. And you— You couldn’t handle The reflection.