Draw open the curtains

Don't. 

Daunting on the other side is something. Someone. A reflection.

I dread to see any of the three. I just want to see the black night. 

Lose myself in the outside dark.

(inhale it. forget that time)

Find nothingness in a pitch sheen window. 

(obsolete vogue now)

Not even a thing to be thinking about.

But I think. I do. I do.

And the curtains twitch. My cold shrivelled fingers

Out dating them by touch. Threatening to open.

Dust escapes with a desperate pull.

Open.

A dry moth crisps out

Then the

Settling.

Settling of a grey coating disguise on the floor.

(dried cosmetics, flaking cells, thin hairs)

And I stare at a girl. 

My wrinkled hand touching the window

She's me 

With the skin of time peel back and fresh.