Scraped paint and splotches hold silence,
paper scraps cling to a new nobody-
A barren wall dreary without wonted décor,

Close up my face hits an illusion
of space expecting response.
Shocking, stark, unreal
the reflective pleasure stripped.
Depth absent without momentum
that comes with mirror's Maya.

My eyes turn deaf to vacuity
hard to fathom as if
Distance from image to eye is a desert
hard to cross without sand
framed in silver's mirage.

A cement patch in corner a swine
stretching in a parched pasture.
Yellowed, the faded plane across the wall
used to be our allure and persona.

It waits to be resurrected like light
looking for direction, perhaps a window,
a hole in the cloud, a remembered moment.