Oops

Written for the My Word Contest, December 2019.

Oops

I told him, Joe,
you’re getting it wrong.
The image should age,
while you stay young.
That painting shows you
hale and strong,
the oils hardly dry,
the attic clean
and cobweb-free,
something just ain’t right.
And you, you’re what?
No more than forty
yet you look as though
you died at least a week ago.
Those eyes you think so
scintillating
are more like glow worms
in the dark,
some eerie lights
in tunnel vision.

“You think I’m now as Dracula,
without reflection
and nothing mirrored?
I see myself entrapped in age,
aware the body falls apart,
my face decayed in mockery
of my immortal dream,
my eyes alive with evil fire.
But worse than that,
my sisters younger every day.”

Line Count: 30
Now entered for the Second Time Around Contest.