MIRRORS

Palms on the glacial damp counter, my eyes coast up from the sink into the reflective glass-

I ache every time;

in my head the glass shatters with every glance,

I turn to leave my grimy half bath, then everything surrounding me turns to a funhouse of mirrors,

mocking and cornering me in my own misery.

I whirl, twirl, and swirl and try and focus on a way out.

Then everything ceases and I no longer see myself, almost as if I were a vampire,

unworthy of a glimpse of my own reflection, on the outside pale and frail, avoided and alone:

He used to look upon me like a queen dipped in gold, so elegant and pure.

But now he’s gone, the mirror screams the mockery in my face,

I am rotten and decayed...

Years have passed, 

now, I can gaze into the mirror and see me,

beautiful, worthy and dependent me,

who only needed to escape from the kaleidoscopes of mirrors of my past.