I'm cold and I reflect light, but I'm no comfort to her.
I'm a reminder that time is passing and dragging her with it.
I'm a room of never changing things, cluttered, dingy and dusty, but most of all I am her watching the time as it mars.
In our youth we did not have the deep scratches all about our face or the gray dust on the top.
There was no smudges or fog.
So long ago this face shined, watching golden eyes, a crocked smile, and the morning sun glittering on pale skin, like moon light on the heavy frost.
Smile lines and a V between the eyebrows were all soon replaced by a face so twisted, a cover strangled body lashing and circling into it's self.
The fog was wiped away only briefly by, tanned skin, a bright smile and russet fur.
The fog thicken over the years.
On clearer days we look at each other eye to eye.
She hates me, this shows in a blaze that flashes through chocolate eyes, in the drawing together of eyebrows, the tightening of uneven lips, the jaw clinching, the reddening cheeks, and the tears that appears but never fall, blinked back or scrubbed away.
Rarely does her mouth form words but when she does it's clear she blames me.
Tears fall, face crumples and we can no longer look at each other.
If I could talk, I would tell her my secrets.
One to be found, hidden so long ago.
One that watches but is bound by love for another.
One that still loves so deeply but bound only by himself.
Would it matter now?
She kept her soul and froze her heart.
The shadow has come to touch her heart and claim her soul.
We look at each other eye to eye, her eye lids lower, her top lip curls with a quiver as her mouth forms the words. "It doesn't matter. Take it I don't want it."
I'm shattered in a burst of, bronze, black and colored light.
I am a million large wolves in russet fur beheading a million kneeling angels of colored light and bronze halos.