The Mirror Only Broke When It Seen Your Face

The Mirror Only Broke When It Seen Your Face

It sat on the wall like it always had,

plain silver frame, a little bit sad

corner chipped from a fall last spring

held on by wire and a nail and string

It saw my mother set her curls

my brother’s cheeky morning swirls

me in lipstick far too red

grandad’s coat slung near the bed

It never flinched, not once, not ever

through storms, and lies, and not-so-clever

attempts to smile with swollen eyes

and years that taught me not to cry

But you walked in with your grin half bent

with hands that bruised more than they meant

with words so sharp they split the air

and laughter colder than your stare

The mirror cracked, just like my voice

like it had made its final choice

one jagged line right down the glass

as if it knew you’d never pass

And I just stood and watched it fall

it didn’t scream, it told it all

the truth it held so long, so tight

gave in, gave out, that silent night

Now people say it’s just a frame

a mirror’s break is not to blame

but I was there, I saw it clear

the day it broke, you disappeared

It only cracked after seeing you

not once before, but when it knew

you’d leave more damage in your place

the mirror broke after it seen your face.