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In What Mirror Are You Looking?
January 14, 2013
Hands shaking, frozen snow.
Ruffled hair,
No place to go.
My mind’s a mess,
A blender of ideas and worries.
Thin wrists matching thin ankles
And a face of sandpaper,
Craters of imperfection.
Chapped lips
With an awkward step,
Not even close to a waltz.
And yet you claim
That I have no flaws.
Like you’re looking in a different mirror,
Reflecting marble statues.
Viewing my cracks and chips
As one of the greatest artworks.
To you I am
A flower
Of some remote island.
You look and see everything I am,
And still claim I be
A goddess.
© Mercedes R., Queens, NY
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