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When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t like the man he saw looking back at him.
Age had not been kind.
The wrinkles and grey hair were to be expected and if you didn’t look too closely to see he was breathing in, the paunch was almost negligible.
But there was more.
He didn’t like the haunted look in his eyes, eyes once a warm twinkly gray were now hard and cold like steel.
He didn’t like the downward curve of his mouth or set thin line of his lips, lips that were once full and ready to deliver a smile.
He didn’t like the droop of his shoulders caused by the weight of defeat and despair.
He didn’t like the feel of emptiness within, something that could have been avoided but he was too blind to see.
Now all he saw was the hollow shell of the man he was twenty years ago, or was it fifty?
It no longer mattered.
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Nice…Sounds like someone who spent a long time thinking only of himself.
Massive kudos for this “punch in the gut” poem!