Broken mirrors

I don’t usually know how to start a poem

I usually look at myself in the mirror and find a reason to

As if.. I had an epiphany and then found a reason to cry

And when I do I need to talk to her

she reminds me of something my mom would say and still does to this day

“Te amo “

I think your laughs contagious can you stop

Can you instead teach me how to breath or walk away from my problems which I found out it’s problems itself

But I find standing in quicksand all the time to be a little scary

She says I put myself into these situations well that still doesn’t make it okay

I find myself mindlessly wandering on my front yard where I shredded all my sad poems on

Now the other side can never be greener and is that okay ?

I was trying to change the landscape into something more beautiful so you can understand me and while I’m here can you take a panoramic picture of it

And after you take it can you make clouds out of nothing to give me the sense of flying

I’m tired of walking

I wonder if the air taste different anywhere higher above ground

Is that the point skydiving or hanging ...

See do you happen to believe in a parallel universe because I do

And I wonder if the other me doesn’t stutter so much when he’s with her because I know he has a lot to say

I wonder if his hands doesn’t shake so much when he types “I love you” because I know he would want to type it more often

And I wonder if he lives in a house full broken mirrors