Don’t recoil from me. Or I will recoil back.
Don’t purse your roses at me
and squelch through them questions of youth and fairness,
Because every word is a seed you plant in my head,
and I will fire-bloom with the flowers of Venus
and swallow the gossamer answers
that you so carefully wound and frisbeed into my unbending surface.
Don’t lament my aloofness, nor my recession like a tide from your company,
nor my alabaster gaze that sails just over your reflection
I merely take what you present, without comment or question,
merely reflect it back at you.
If I did anything different, you would break me,
being a mirror, as I am.
Image credits in order of appearance:
By Beauty Blogger – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=38735875
By Gerd Peter – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=52311972