and just when you needed
yourself the most,
the mirror didn’t look right—
the dusty patina cast a veil
shrouding your face in ink
dark as forever’s oblivion
like the finale of a film roll.

the negative space
you now inhabit
surrounds a pale tracing—
lines too frail to bend 
into a crutch
to hoist yourself up 
over the penitentiary wall.

and just when you needed
yourself the most,
you didn’t know where 
to find yourself amid the mess—
slumped in the corner,
sprawled out across the knotted wood
of a buckling floor
you swore you'd just repaired.