The mirror wakes
Before I do
Its surface shivers
Silver crawling
Like something alive
Beneath ice
A figure forms
My outline
But hollowed
As if carved
From the dark
Behind my thoughts
His eyes glow
With a cold
That doesn’t belong
To any living thing
He lifts a hand
And the glass cracks
In a perfect circle
Like a mouth
Opening to speak
From that fracture
A whisper leaks out
Thin
Metallic
Hungry
I am the shape
Your fear becomes
When you stop pretending
You’re safe
The mirror seals
The room dims
And I feel him
Standing just behind me
Breathing in the place
Where my shadow
Should be
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Author:
Anthony Hanible (
Offline) - Published: June 13th, 2026 00:32
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: Anthony Hanible
Offline)
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