Mirrors forever hold their own mysteries
conspiring with light
birthing reflections
wreaking havoc in our vision
unleashing a sea of insecurities we'd rather live without
So with eyes closed, I trace the contours of my visage, memorizing every curve and blemish
and falling in love all over again, with my invisible unblemished self
untraceable, undocumented and unmarred by public opinion
my mirror is the soul that never grows old, and is without wrinkle
the realest reality ever
and I feel safe, secure, and loved
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem