Perfect Fingers

What other shadowy faces drift across the verges of your mind…
First they were here. Then they were there. They are everywhere.

Hiding in our words. Stealing into our laughter.
In my mirror.
In my shadows.
In your stories, over and over.
Under the beds and in the corners…Say they aren’t there.
Say they are invisible.
Say they are far away… but words mean nothing.
Line upon line, face after face, body after body all
Standing large over the little things I’ve grown to love.
The brave fear of comparison.
At night,
Through my sleepless fields they chase and catch,
And scratch open old wounds with their perfect fingers.
They break the glass, and crack the walls.
Peel back the paint, and their faint faces stare back.