Published in March '03 "The Sidewalks End", to be published in a 2004 issue of Babel.

The mirror mocks me
with it's silent echo and accord
for all that what was and for
the promise of a flame
Without a touch, it pains me
for all which could never be again
and so, the razors edge is plain
The shards remain fixed
in the edges of consciousness
Jutting memories bear the same
anguish that is absence, love as fain
reminders of all I could not perform
and all the steps that left my soul worn
Oh, there is no worse place than to be free
when razorblade facets expand all things