The Mirror that Hungers

For each mask, the mirror waits.

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The mirror does not show–

It waits,

Its glass mouth open,

Stretched wide,

Hungry.

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Each of my glances

A sacrifice given;

My false laugh

The pout of doubt

An offering.

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It cleans my soul,

Pulls down my mask–

Polished, clear,

A stranger

Who knows.

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But some shadow

I hide deep,

Its darkness unmirrored

Obscure enough

To resist.

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But one day

It will emerge–

And swallow

The glass predator

With truth.

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Please find a book of my horror microfiction, Echoes in the Dark, free for download here.