Mirror, Mirror

She lies besides me, shaken
as I hide sorrow inside my throat;
where it’s grown adjusted
to the game of camouflage,
be it tears, tongue, a tight chest,
or the yearning to gloat;

I hold her body against mine
hoping that human touch is enough;
we are in the exact same boat,
a brother on the street again
choosing the path of the narcotic
as opposed to wise rhetoric
from loved ones, who can’t seem
to enter his heart, yet provoke.

I want our collective thoughts
to raise him up, alter the agony
inside him, chain up the manipulative
current of his present life;
praying for strength and strife
we put our thoughts to the cross
and plead for light.