Alone in the Flood

I had always known it would finish

in death. He rose to his feet, the mirror

catching his reflection, trapping

him in its ephemeral prison. Senescent, my

eyes grasped their own reflection, scalding

tears running over my cheeks

down to the white pillow- my body

alone in the flood, flotsam upon

the rising water, exposed

to the sun. He left, his cell

unable to hold him. I remained,

dead and breathing, the last petal

dangling from the inflorescence.