Rear View
Objects in mirror are closer than they appear This time, I chose to drive. You don’t need to do a thing—just sink gently into the passenger seat, as if it’s always been waiting for you. You don’t have a map, but I’ve traced out our route. Car mirrors remind us that objects seem larger than they are. Maybe, if I saw your flaws through them, they’d finally grow into the monsters I need them to be, and I could let you go. I plan to hate you. It’s the only way to extinguish the fire of my desire. The only way I’ll release the wheel, let my hands fall still, and finally find rest. I’ll steal one last glance—at your half-smile, the sliver of your cheek, and your half-hearted love. I’ll whisper goodbye to that flaw I secretly adored. Your calm eyes, now magnified in the mirror, reveal the truth: they were never windows to passion. I could never spark your soul, and your gaze always dimmed when it settled on me. Your eyes always reflected less of me.
