Through the Looking Glass
It must be funny when you walk into this world of opposite intentions Your left; my right You left. I simply dissolved into a lathering thought coughed up from the esophagus of the drain for a moment and was gone Your right; my left I left Hot air rises exhaust fan revolves while the mirror collects condensation that blurred our faces with watering eyes you smiled; I cried I cried nakedly, you glared at my shivering bosoms. The water is hot, yet the body so cold You reached for a white towel for cover. I felt nothing of the softness, or the scent of a freshly pressed cloth, except the tag attached to my right toe (your left) You left only a number that enunciates our existence as we met through the looking glass.