The eyes in the mirror blink at the same time as the porcelain dolls on the dark oak shelf above my bed. I feel like my life is no longer private with the way they observe every move I make, every little misstep and stumble. I tried covering the mirror with a blanket, but the eyes just blinked...

their roaring red reflects onto my hazy pupils

Burrowing like a lovesick mite,

Swallowing a rigid, prickly gumball,

Short of 3 teaspoons of baking soda,

I crave the kind of closeness born of still,

You once held youth and beauty

Scrutinising the mirage down the street,

They said he loved her so much, he waited for her spectre to return to him after her death, for one

Sometimes I like to watch my neighbour.