all the way back
she talked about herself, and
his love waned slowly with the moon. at the door, they started from habit to
kiss good night, but she could not run into his arms, nor were they
stretched to meet her as in the week before. for a minute, they stood there, hating each other with a bitter sadness. but as he had loved himself in her, so now what he hated was only a mirror. their poses were strewn about the pale dawn like broken glass. the stars were long gone and there were only little sighing gusts of wind and the silences between...but naked souls are poor things even and so he turned
homeward and let new lights come in with the sun.
fear. fear. fear. fear of. fear fear fear. disillusionment is a terrifying thing. don't break the mirror.