on being

the mirror reflection
becomes my lover
my enemy

i imagine myself
a singer
wildly loving
the sexy guitarist
carving lyrics on his chiseled shoulders
brandy dripping down my breasts

but my songstress
belongs in the bathroom
lyrics across soapy walls

bubbles foam
as i ready
the vessel of my being
for stories
of tomorrow

i could write a river

our gift is
that we come
empty
open
peaceful

no song
no instrument
no walls
no turning back