I caught a glimpse of my face in the shop’s foggy glass

I caught a glimpse of my face in the shop’s foggy glass,

reflections bend lightly, like memories pass.

The streetlights above twist my features to wane,

a stranger beneath layers of quiet disdain.

People walk by without a glance in their eye,

I wonder who sees me, and who would deny.

This shadow feels heavy, a weight that I wear,

a face that feels foreign, stripped naked and bare.

What happened to warmth in these winds cold and fierce?

I hide behind layers, in shadows I pierce.

This mirror’s a thief, a thief of the day,

as I trace the reflection that keeps drifting away.