shattered mirror, shadowed, does not yield a true image. splinters of glass thread my reflection with cracks glittering in the facade. (too many cracks, too little glue) sometimes the broken mirror shows something that doesn't look quite real. sometimes i look at my reflection and wonder "am i real?"
The mirror is crafted of a smoky glass that gives me a new pallor, manipulates my hair colour and warps my clothes. I don't recognize myself right now. I step away, to the normal clear mirror. Too late, my mind has been tricked, the mirrors lying. I don't recognize myself.
liner, shadow, mascara.painstakingly applied,darkening and contouringshielding the windows to the soul.lip gloss, tint, balm.smudged and smooth,sleek and clean.imagine all i could say.views are distorted.quick glances,one eye closed and a tiny mirror.i never see properly.generally avoiding mirrors.fascinating today,these shadows and lines.i think i see what you see.
If I look around my room, I see the work of a disorganized person. A jumper hangs over the desk chair, ignorant of the fact that in this corner of the world it's almost summer and therefore I shouldn't have need of a jumper. The dressing table has a candle on it, half-burned down and… Continue reading Leaving Traces of Myself
I'm looking in the mirror. I see you, my inanimate twin. I see the slight circles under your eyes, that vary depending on the sleep you've had. I see the two little scars above your jaw, stubborn remnants of childhood chickenpox. I imagine I see tiny lines around the eyes, waiting to begin. I see… Continue reading Dear Me, I See You