S p e ct r e
Poem by Charles Beckford Art by Amy Zhu
I can’t see you where you’re hiding Wading through, I can’t see my hands in the milky bathwater searching for you If you were to look in the mirror and hate yourself I hope that even through those tearstained eyes The drops that hit your pillow are heard Your wishes and cries, your pleas and sorrows I wish for your world to soften when you awaken, or for mirrors to break If only so, we may love ourselves more
Tell me, who will I find when I push through all of the smoke? Open them, the hazy water stings your eyes and blends with your scars A deep sea muffle that drowns the outside world and thoughts you have of yourself Stay down there and keep your head under the water if you desire My wishes and pleas, the tears that hit your pillow, all mix with the sea But if you choose to emerge and are gasping for air Take my hand, and take my eyes If only so, you could see you’re not as lost as you think you are
Tell me, who do you see when all of the mirrors shatter? Steady yourself, don’t shake underneath their gaze I know it’s hard to stand tall when the pressure is crushing And the world is as low as the ceiling that touches the sea you’re hiding in But imagine their faces They’re shaking under your gaze I’d blind the rest of the world If only so, you could see yourself through your own eyes
So abandon all thoughts of closing them for good
About the Author
Charles Beckford is inspired by many writers of the past and the Decadent Movement, all the while trying to pave his own way. He has a penchant for injecting a drop of Dadaist poison into science.
