Her.

I. The Mirror

There she stands, commanding my gaze

--invincible and unbreakable.

A youthful body, with a head held erect

upon confident and unyielding shoulders.

She is a white orb of night reflecting the sun.

An imitation, by stolen light.

Yet there are those who believe her lie

and think she is me.

The butterfly fish has two faces.

One is real--the other a fraud

to confuse and fool the predator's eye.

Is she my counterfeit, or am I hers?

This is who they perceive

when they look at me. A cold reflection

--a shell. But when cut; inside is found

a bruised and broken soul.

II. The Photograph

She's there again, standing in golden afternoon sun,

smiling and glittering in a wedding dress.

Her husband holds her closely, seeing only the

thriving and vibrant woman before him.

She is a distorted and bent image through the lens

of a camera. A beautiful refraction--

a photograph of who I wish to be,

and who everyone thinks I am.

The Matryoshka doll was made to be a toy.

Each layer opens and reveals another hidden figure.

Locked beneath her painted shell I huddle,

seen only if I am torn apart.

Does he know, as he holds her in the picture,

that he will hold me tightly, grasping to keep my

broken pieces from crumbling, while others are

fooled by her smiling facade?

III. The Glass Door

I see her, the shadowy reflection in the door.

She stares at me with those dark glass eyes

--penetrating my soul. She knows that I am

nothing without her. Weak and broken.

I wonder if we are in a symbiotic relationship,

or am I a parasite that cannot live without its

healthy host? Could she exist without me?

With a smile, she opens the door.

IV. The Prison

I remember when we first met, our eyes appraising

each other through the mirror. She saw my shattered pieces

and tears on my cheeks. Beckoning me with a firm hand,

she promised me protection from the world.

She would become a harbor for my shipwrecked

soul to dock, and a beautiful mask to hide beneath.

But I did not know then, when I took her icy hand,

that she would also be my prison cell.