(no subject)
I spoke with her...the mirror her.
I asked her questions.
Physical questions.
They taunted me. As they always do. Constantly taunting.
I played with her sinew. Tugged at the strings. Pulled at the parchment and porcelain.
Hot breath against cold windows. Smudges and fingerprints.
She doesn't make sense to me anymore. I don't know who that person is. The eyes are different. Cold. Uncaring. Sad. I question whether this person staring back at me can really feel sadness when she is so unbelievably and maddeningly cold. Her face is cold.
Fingertips caress fingertips. Cold glass is what they meet.
I shouldn't have expected to meet anything else. No liquid and honey. Nothing that...beautiful.
There are dark circles under Mirror Girls eyes. I wonder where she got those. I never before thought that she never slept. She was sleeping so soundly. At least, that is what she told me. Convinced me of. Yet, as I finally take a look at what she is...what she has become...she looks tired. Sleepless. I wish that I could cut the black out with a spoon and fill it in with vanilla pudding.
Pat it down with my patty-cake hands.
She will look better then. She will look rested.
Her hair is a seedless color. Dirt and mud. Has she really not been taking care of herself? I wonder why she has lied to me so. Why has she convinced me that she is something...entirely different? I can't fathom the reason. It makes no sense. I partially wonder if it is my fault to begin with. Perhaps it is all the nail polish that I swallowed that day. Stained my throat red. Blood red. I wanted to color her pretty face with rouge.
I don't think she took.
She is still so gray.
I am just shocked. Is this really the right person staring back at me? How can this be? She looks...so...old.
I question my sanity and reliability.