The Mirror Lie

The mirror used to be a judge,

cold-robed, unimpressed,

waiting for me to confess

I didn’t deserve to be seen.

﹁﹂

I’d stand there with wet hair

and a towel slipping off my shoulder,

trying to bargain with my face

Be prettier, be quieter, be less.

﹁﹂

Some mornings it showed me my mother’s eyes,

Other mornings it showed me every insult

I ever believed

like subtitles I couldn’t turn off.

﹁﹂

I poked at my skin

like it was a mistake I could edit.

I learned angles the way people learn prayers,

repeating, repeating,

until my reflection sounded like a stranger.

﹁﹂

Then one day the glass caught sunlight

and for a second

It looked… softer.

Not kinder, exactly. Just tired of lying.

﹁﹂

I saw the small scar on my chin

from falling off my bike at nine,

And I remembered I was brave

Before I was “pretty.”

﹁﹂

I touched the mirror with two fingers

like tapping on an aquarium

Hello, are you real in there?

﹁﹂

My face stared back, unperformed,

a little puffy, a little honest,

and still alive.

﹁﹂

Maybe the lie wasn’t the mirror.

Maybe it was the voice I brought to it.

I’m trying to leave that voice behind,

But it follows… sometimes.