Ghost in the Glass

On the other side of the glass her ghostly face peers back,

Her face, pale and shining,

Lips in a thin slash,

Eyes, dark and lost.

Who is she?

I paint her lips red and full,

Her eyes unblinking I circle in black,

China red roses I dust on her cheeks.

Coloured in, trapped in glass, is she real now?

A painted smile forced on her face,

Pale creamy skin streaked with black, I wipe her face off and start over.

Solidified, she is ready to face the world now.

The End

6 comments about this poem Feed