Narcissus

He calls me his Narcissus—    
So does that make him my Echo,    
Torturing his soul as he chases me.    
I could let him come up for air,    
But what fun would that be?    

You see, I could be savage, if necessary,    
But please—don’t provoke the dark side of me.    
Dancing topless, it’s so hard    
Not to fall in love with myself.    
I trace my body with my fingers,    
Spinning around the pole,    
I lock eyes with the girl I love most:    
Me.  
 
Enchanted, I make my way to the mirror,    
Placing both hands upon its glass,    
Looking deeply into my soul.    
God, I love my brows,    
My eyes—perfect,    
My lips so succulent,    
My skin so soft,    
It’s because of the lotion I use.    
I think I take loving myself to another level.    
I wink at the shy girl,    
Who still gets nervous when she first takes the stage,    
And I blow a kiss to the woman who loves    
Red nails, red shoes, red lipstick.    

I truly believe you need your evil—    
It’s what makes us whole,    
What makes us learn,    
What makes us grow.    

His Narcissus?    
I suppose that’s why I hate when men bring flowers.    
If you could buy death,    
And bring me something so beautiful,    
Cut down in its prime,    
It makes me wonder,    
What would you do to me?    

I’m the kind of person who will introduce you    
To all my skeletons and laugh    
As you run away.    

Yet I am a paradox,    
And I only let you see    
What I want you to see.    

Yeah, I suppose I am his Narcissus—    
But this time I’ll    
Turn from my reflection,    
And finally,    
Let Echo love me.    
   
NP