objects in the mirror

I lost you in the days when we
 were mired in the weekly grind;
 the heart and body set aside
 to cultivate (or use) the mind

I lost you when we realized
 how much was worn and tattered
 from all of the neglectful time 
 misjudging what had mattered

And now, there is no you to find,
 though I might travel far, or near,
 for objects in the mirror are
 far guiltier than they

Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

Leave a Reply