She catches a glimpse of me when cleaning the mirror, a glazed projection from weary blue flecks catching a fraction, a mere pinpoint when we were we;

quickly piercing, worn like leather, an eye cover that has accumulated years of summer, opening wide as she spies me through optic dark portals changing spherically, drawing closer, then closing down;

a blink, a refraction between dark matter, she thinks; stepping into memories, when ticking was a heartbeat, not her world’s empty drum;

then the darkness comes, her mind caves in, again,
sinking below the living’s surface;

our umbilical never lets go; the creative child never forgets;

regret fills each step; she turns away, a million fragments, a shattered smile dissipates down within this prison; cries bounce soundless upon our bone and skin;

nailed above her bed, a sketch, a world where we both lived, both died; charcoal swirls a secret, shadowing where the troubadour’s song was heard;

sandman calling, and I am, again, free; murkiness pooling, her mind slowly unwinding taking us deeper into a crystal sea,

drowning, holding breath, she dives to reach yesterday;
letting her go, I break surface, knowing then

we can start to live,
again ~

*******************
Mark Kerstetter, one of the wonderfully talented writers at dVerse, offered a creative prompt this weekend regarding Persona. Please visit dVerse for a full description as my poem doesn’t give the poetic term great service for I didn’t really stretch the limits. I did wish to try writing from a different perspective, however, so I composed this tribute to the inner child.