when I look in the mirror
I see not myself
but a woman I have long judged through the eyes of others
how is it so
that I might know what they see when they
look
upon me
I have only ever been me
and my judgments are not theirs
it matters not
because my smile is not my own
my eyes send shivers down my spine for the disconnect I gaze into
my face could be
a painted portrait of a woman lost
for the familiarity I find in her smile
I worry I have become vain
for the thrill I seek in my cheekbones
for the butterflies that take flight from my flirtatious smile
because
when the woman in the mirror
is not me
she breathes the very essence of beauty
she is
the embodiment of speech
flowering syllables over gilded pages and gilded frames
a goddess
hidden among the mortals
when
I erase my name
from the face I see
she is
everything an angel might be
only
if
I am not her
because
when she gains
a name
she is me
not
the pinnacle of divinity
not
mother nature's tender creation
not
anything
a loving
living
God could create
when
she is me
she is nothing
but a face
in the mirror
