Poetry

The mirror

It speaks now.

Always talking, 

exclaiming, a

constant reminder of the things

that were.

Its image, changing,

sends me back.

This is inspired by and dedicated to Ilia Malinin, who found the possible in impossible, carrying himself with his dreams

True wisdom comes from knowing we

know

nothing.

It wasn't one moment

That made me fall in love

With snowboarding

I didn't stand at the top of the mountain

As the wind whipped my hair

And decided I loved to snowboard

It wasn't the moment when

I don't know why

but something in me loves

to dance just out of death's reach

to swerve between its fingers,

there, but impossible to grasp

letting an inch decide my next breath

it makes me feel

The brick blockade stands tall,

My love is severed by this wall,

My heart broken into two—

The only remedy is a kiss from you.

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Wait.

What?

How did that go up?

Logically

How

do others see me?

Do they see a girl in gray cargo pants and light blue thermal quarter zip?

Do they see a friend who loves them despite her crankiness?

Do they see a quiet awkward girl who prefers books to people?

I used to spin golden thread

thin and pure as warm sunlight

lighter than feathers

worth more than gold

Now it's murky and brown

chunky and stringy as grassy mud

heavier than sorrow

Little do we know

everyone is next

I am next

glints in their eyes give away their fear

help us

Again?

I’ll say it again

I will say it a million times over

I will say it till you believe it

I will say it till you fall asleep

The first time the words touched my ears

I sobbed,

stricken on the ground.

The second time,

I cried 

and was inconsolable.

The third time

do I like myself?

no.

do I accept myself?

no.

do I appreciate myself?

no.

yet do I wish I was someone else?

no.