Mirrors and Reflection//Who do you think you are?

I need to learn, she laughs.
I need to learn how to stop being cold, need to get warm.
It starts at my feet, the tip of my toes, tiptoes on which I walk upon, and crawls up ever so slowly. It soon becomes a layer of frost over my legs, one that makes me shiver in the night like ice up my spine.
Yes, warmth would be nice.
Her laugh is cold. Her eyes are cold. Icy blue and icy true.
Do you miss him? I ask.
(Did you ever touch his face in the night, while his breath was on yours? Did you ever lean in and feel that warm skin against your own, and knew that this was how you were meant to be? Did you ever lie in his arms, his warm body against yours, melting every inch of ice that encases your nasty little heart?)
No, she said. Her tone is flat.
No, I don’t.
Do you miss being alive? I blurt out, before I even understand what the words are. I’m hesitant to snatch them out of the air and back into my mind, when it was simply a thought and not yet a mistake. I’m too curious.
Oh but I am, she laughs. She’s bitter now.
I wonder if she knows she’s lying to herself, and that each life eats her up, slowly, bit by bit. I wonder if she knows losing herself, one dream at a time, is not something to revel in.
I am alive, she says.
(But you’re not living.)

When I Wasn't Looking

I turn around.
Close my eyes, "Green light!"
Shuffling of feet.
"Red light!"
(I'm too scared to turn around)

I don't wanna play childhood games.