Albert Bouchard face in your mirror

My scarred face inside your mirror
Bears no resemblance to the man
Who posed before your needy eyes
When I thought you loved me
I have become an erasure
My freedom held in your rejection
I give you my compassion
And return to my reflection
Then I raise your silver needle
Shifting my visage, folding its layers
Stitching flesh to bone that crumbles
Overlapping discarded pain
Metaphysical incantation
Self-creation with no past
Alchemy of baser matter
Forgetfulness of what I was
We are born for pain like this
It makes a human know his flesh
Behind the self who once loved you
I am an altogether different man
I hide behind the mask I made
And lose myself in your searing stare
Are we ever as we appear
When looking through a lover's mirror?
Take your tears and numb my flesh
To the pain of re-emerging
Where once I was filled with wanting
Now I crave freedom from yearning
My reflection on the surface
Of this distorted lover's mirror
Traces the lines of my trembling scalpel