if you think of a title for this let me know (10/21/15)

You cried. I didn’t cry. I can’t cry. You
cried. I can’t cry. I didn’t cry. You
cried. I want to cry.

Mirrors shattered mirrors. Shattered your mirrors my mirrors, all mirrors. Who mirrored the mirror that shattered. Whose mother did you mirror. Mirror whose mirror mirrored my roars.

Used to be the other way around.
Around the other way it used to be.
Fat to thin. Thin to fat. Fattened.
Thinned. Middle ground clothes
shared soundly. Fattened. Thinned.
Around the way, the Other. Cherished
t-shirts, stretch skirts. Cherished the way
it used to be. Floats then now sinks. Used
to be. Used to it.

Figurines fell. Were knocked down. The cat. Shattered shaking the shelf. Fallen figurines the cat shook. Knocked down. Mirrors shattered the figurines. The cat configured the shaking. I shook the figurines. The shelves knocked down my mother’s mirror. Figures figuring mirrored shelves.

A sharp internal sense of justice.
Justice imparted. Outraged your
sense of smell. So sharp, so dark. Just
internal your olfactories. Sensing
outrage I departed internally.
Justice justified.

Spattered freckles. Your face and shoulders. Spattered shattered freckles flecked shoulder and face. Figured freckles mirrored one another. Faced shouldered shelves spattered freckles. Mirrored cat spattered mothers. Flecked mirrors spattered freckles all over your face and shook.

I cried. You didn’t cry. Justice
internalized this death. The Other
wending around your factories. I used to
not want to cry. Fat tears. Thin trails.
So sharp the delineation of darkness
proclaimed. Cherish what used to be.