Haven't written for a few months... liberal application of WD40
Also might be severely navel gazing with this one. Honest critique appreciated :3 (Note This doesn't really feel done* to me, but I feel like I've painted myself into a corner.) Cleaned often or not, I still can't see
What's near, and right in front of me. A brush of cloth, or clear insight
Brings sharp focus, mirror bright. Briefly seen and briefer known,
Ego, Id, and not alone. There deep within the fogging vision,
All mans love, and our derision. Love again, and fear and pain,
and tenderness, and love again. I think I know these loathsome depths,
These soaring highs at which I wept, We're not so different, mirror and I,
More similar than would appearance belie, But even with this realization,
fog coats the mirror with perspiration, Until a cloth again I brush,
this truth shall know a gentle hush. Like mist across a mirror pane,
I'll slowly forget I'm you again.