Distorted Reflection: a Poem

Polished glass did not reflect what her eyes held.

She cradled her mother’s expectations against her skin, stroked them softly like they were mink, and told herself the sweetest lies.

(Though they were jagged shards of glass and distorted reflections, she told herself the truth couldn’t go down unlike a poison.)

The sugar fed to her on a spoon could rot her. The sweetness of honey could decay her. But

she chose not to swallow the kindness because she preferred the taste of rusty razor blades tucked into her breakfasts

(because the truth was not kind

& any attempt at benevolence was poorly forecast).

Years of backhanded compliments and twisted beliefs in what confidence was had mangled her belief in self.

So when she peered into mirrors –

polished glass did not reflect what her eyes held.

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