So what does it mean,
this dream, this nightmare:
You have been with her.

You say it was fun.
You saw the sun then
in her, not in me.

And what did she see
in you, you believer?
She blandished, she blinked,

she blurred your view
of yourself. You were blinded
by a silvery slur.

The mirror is her,
the blur, you use it.
Beware. Look behind.

If you do, you may find
Me waiting, dying
To see my own light

in you. I do use
you, lover, mirror,
like you did with her.

Is that what it means?
My own view may blur,
may conceal what is real.

Believe, then, in her,
and I will try
to believe what you say.

Just talk, talk to me.
Set me free
from this poison, this jealousy.


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