My face looked into a mirror and descried nothing.
It searched for reflection, but nothing appeared.
No eyes, no mouth or ears, not even a nose
or the mole on my left cheek.
I witnessed all of these before,
but now they were invisible.
The shadows pooled around my feet like their blood
as I withdrew from the looking glass and cried,
the sound of a radio announcer bludgeoned my head
as they interviewed B4.
She felt cold and was afraid of the dark.
"I would have loved her," she said.
My head pounds. Would that love have replaced this rift
in my sanity? Too late to find out.
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