I see you everywhere.
Hinted at in windows,
Lurking in alleyways and beneath stairwells,
Breathing too loudly.
I know you.
You’ve stolen my face, hidden it behind glass,
Perfected it in every way, every nuance, every fault and failing.
But I know you.
But I see you.
Walking behind me, beside me;
Waiting for me when I turn a corner.
I see you in my eyes,
I see you through them.
Gathering cobwebs and corpses,
The thickening of flesh into oil,
Into congealed sadness.
One winter dry finger flicks aside the veil.
Well, I’ve got to hand it to you.
You have me almost perfect,
The laconic fall of honey-salted hair,
The weathering of skin above broad, flat cheek-bones,
A chin puckered slightly at the tip;
Creases softening acorn-shade eyes.
But you see, I know you,
I know you’re there.
I hold up my hands to the light, and it’s your bones beneath my skin.
Picture credit/discredit: author's own work