Almost Touching

In the company of mirrors,
Through tactile taps,

Dissolving, we linger

In the memories of others.

This quicksilver separation 

Stands to win no friends,

For beneath the silent surface,

We dance alone.

On reflection, this reflection,

Reflects badly on us both;

I would change it 

If the other allowed it.

I would. I would. 

Almost is our watchword.

Almost is our game.

As in mirrors, we endeavour.

As in mirrors, we almost touch.


10 thoughts on “Almost Touching”

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