the confession of the mirror

waking up in the morning, –
for her is became more of a routine,
rather than a necessity.

she is still in her bed, laying naked.
naked inside,
stripped from yesterday’s ado
by the artificial nightmares.

covered by the shades from the oak tree.

soon she’ll get up.
her feet will touch a hardwood floor,
and the tiles will happily squeak
rejoicing in her steps.

she’ll slip into her t-shirt,
(it wasn’t originally her)
who knows
who cares.

(I do, because I saw)

first she’ll make herself another coffee,
then she’ll make herself another day.

another day,
the t-shirt is on the hardwood floor,
and no more naked feet.

only pain,
left by her high heels on the shiny surface.

the empty coffee cup.
shades of the tree, that on the southern wall,

and me
her mirror on the wall.


4 thoughts on “the confession of the mirror

  1. I am not a professional. There would be no critic from me. Why I like what I read? Your poems have rhythm, feelings, imagination and actions. It’s about everyday life, love, expectations, disappointments and still love. The woman is a center character, and feelings are sincere, gentle, and honest. There are many questions and no answers. You are on a quest for something real. I can relate to some of your thoughts. Thank you, it was an enjoyable reading.

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