When I look into the water I do not see my face reflected
back; I see hers, as it once was, not as it is now, the magic of the water
preserving what we wish to see, holding it before us, the Queens mirror telling
us what we want to be, this water, this river is a path I take, always bringing
me back to the same place, the safety of memory of what I wished for most then
and still wish for now, an inescapable Whirlpool I am caught up in, day and
night in dreams that can't possibly come true, and vague hopes for a redemption
not possible during the hamster reality of waking, I look over the rail into
the water where her face wavers with each wave, her eyes widening, her lips
busy with a smile I know is not real, the magic mirror I cling to even when I
know it can't possibly ever be real
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