She never speaks,
But stares.
Her eyes slice through the warm body which entraps me.
The eyes,
The hair,
The expression,
Seem familiar,
But distant.
A tear falls,
I wait for her to do the same,
But her face silently ripples away.
I slowly blink those tired eyes,
She returns
Her head cushioned on a cloud.
She wears my face,
But I alone have my mind.
I trail my fingers over her transparent mask.
The reflection again ripples,
As she silently drifts away.

I smile, though
I still cry.
She haunts me and taunts me,
Wherever I go.
Yet she is not me.
She has my body
But not my mind.
Ripples on the water,
Delicate and mild.
She divides my head
In a bloodless way.
She reads me, like a book,
Only upside-down.
She once again settles,
Still staring at me.
My mind screams
But my body makes no sound.
My last tear falls,
She does not cry.

She once took my body,
Now she reaches for my mind.