Reflections

As I touch the hard cold mirror I feel it crack.
I push harder.
The fracture splits
and divides
conquering the surface in seconds.

Splinters work their way into my finger tips
and cut the fine lines on my palms.
Segments fall and shatter
as I pull my hands across
the schisms.

Blood the colour of dark rubies
seeps over my wrists
creating smooth
uneven trails across my skin,
and drips at the elbow

I step back and
remove my hands from the mirror.
The reflection stares back, palms up, cupping blood.
It surveys the damage,
and smiles.


- I'm trying to write an essay about the use of the double in certain texts at the moment and it's been interesting thinking about the 'dark other' and how it could take over (eg The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde). Anyway, I'd love any opinions and helpful criticism!