Mirrors Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

There is a road
That the mirror conjures
While you tousle your hair,
Veil your blemished soul
With a woman’s peculiar penchant.

The mirror cringes at your sight.
The mirror tells you
The stories
Of the life you destroyed,
Of the strings you pulled
As a puppet moves frailly.

The mirror warbles
At the synthetic aesthetics
Of your poise, your affinity.

When the mirror told you
Of the life you destroyed,
The dreams you let shatter,
The hopes you incinerated
With those fiery eyes,
Did it shake you?

Your petite, mauve dress
Fills the night with an abundance
Of eloquence
But then, the road you took,
The life you destroyed,
The things you have stolen,
Will be narrated by the mirror
In the most eager of ways.

But then, you’re blind.
Mute.
Deaf.