beside the wall
is an old mirror
framed with
wood designed
as flowers
carved
in petal and
sepal accurate
details
so intricate that
you forget to
see what you want
to see before
coming inside the room
below is the floor
of oft-white tiles
so clean and
tidy that sometimes
you have second thoughts
stepping on it
mistaken instead as
a dining table
due to the food
and fruit designs
embedded on each
surface
there is a window that
sees you like you were a
camel and it behaves more
like eyes of
mother's needles
and you begin to shiver
it seems that all that you
see are misleading you
into something
a mirror that makes you
forget your intentions
a floor that makes you long
for dinner
and a window that makes you
remember your sinful
nature
you pause for a while
close your eyes and breathe
some air and when you
are composed like a song
or a poem
you open your eyes
again
to see a door before you
which is open
it looks like open arms
wanting to have you
but now you doubt all these
things
and you hold your feet
deciding that you stay
that going out is not
what you really wanted
you feel that home is here
and not over there. Arms
wide open which you
cannot trust because there
is no body out there
shaped like your past
beloved.
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