UNSOLVED: Regret, A Lament for The Unsolved.

The Glass does not simply show me. 

It shows the light of my life
 left scattered,  

The energy of words unsaid. 
It is an anti-chamber, smelling of sea salt. 
And the distant, yet
metallic taste of certainty.

She stands there, the other. 
And the world she inhabits has a higher frequency. The air around her vibrates with completion. 
She is holding a thing—
is it a key?
Or the simple, Un-latched truth? 

My own hand is heavy, tethered to the- 
floor, dust, weight, gravity

of my past decisions. 

The mirror is not a window, but a slow, 
Crushing calculation of all the zero-sums I thought could save me.

I see a staircase I never climbed
That spirals into colors I once recalled,
the winter grey of the hospital doors i fleed.
golden city lights that turned into mere memories
red and green bells left untolled,
the rusty maroon of the place She used to call home.

My melancholy is merely the recognition
Of the knowledge that a ghost can be more real 
Than the flesh that stands in the mirror before it

written by Zoe