Black satin draped over mirrors and windows, Dust settling weary on sharp-edged glass.
A fallen Narcissus — | never meet my reflection. But a reflection does not fall for cheap avoidance, It finds its way back in a still canal, a whisper.
It stirs in rain-streaked panes, wavers in a breath.
A voice slithers: “Shall we play?”
Soft, cunning, irresistible — until it’s inescapable.
A stare-down — if you blink, you surrender your place. Your eyes are forced to meet your own, and for the first time,
Stripped of resistance, you truly see.
Ink-stained fingers, freckled skin, light-scattered pupils. The water quivers.
A tender smile grazes your mouth — you blink. Strangely, the world does not change — only you do.
Eya BILEL
