A figure stands alone

She hangs her head,
still and emotionless.

Another figure stands
in front of her, the same
as she, a reflection.

Looking up, fingers twitch,
The reflection lunges forward,
through the flesh, past
the bone, stabbing for the heart.

All the time she stands
and stares straight down
blank and passionless.

The cold hand drives to grab,
but slips on emptiness,

It’s already gone.