The Mirror

Mirror.

The person I see in the mirror is a

strange version of myself.

Mirror.

Left is right

right is left.

Lend me your mirror.

Eyes see eyes see eyes…

Am I your mirror?

Our eyes are just reflections of each other:

Paintings that want to

see their self-portrait.

A portrait of respect.

or love

or what?

Your eyes define

me.

What do they see?

Not everything.

I can tell my story but it is merely a blurb

to an epic saga.

An epic saga of sleeping, of waking, of

trying to achieve that state of being…

Being alive, living, life.

Mirror.

For a moment

I can see your life clearly.

But my life is shrouded in fog.

Do you clear the mist?

To you am I

a few words?

Or to you am I

a jumble of knots?

Mirror.

Every eye I see

Makes a piece of the mirror.

Pieces of me, tangled into pieces of you.

I don’t understand

how your mirror works.

Words. Faces. Hands.

The language of life – the mirrors.

Tiny mirrors, tinkling jeering tunes.

I am vain. You are just a mirror to me.

I tiny mirror I can barely see,

and yet it is the only image I have

of me.

Do I pass?

Yes?

or no?

Mirror.