Debra Winger
the mirror
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We are the mirror as well as the face in it
We are tasting the taste this minute of eternity
We are pain and what cures pain both.
We are the sweet cold water and the jar that pours.
I want to hold you close like a lute so we can cry out with loving.
You would rather throw stones at a mirror?
I am your mirror, and here are the stones.