Two nights ago
standing in the extra large bathroom
at April's house
her youngest daughter lying on the floor
April sitting beside her....
young V looks up at me
as I gaze at the discoloration of my face
and broken spirit in the mirror...
I hear a soft spoken
I glanced down into the vivid blue eyes gazing back up at me.
What does she see?
Certainly not what I see, looking in the mirror before me.
The tired, lifeless eyes. The sparkle gone. Oh sure, sometimes it's there ... for a moment or two, fleetingly dazzling the world before fading quickly into its hiding place, down into the depths.
The pale skin. Distorted. The pure exhaustion that racks my body from the exertion of facing each day ... Some days riding an exhorbant high, only to come crashing down, spiraling out of control toward a vast unknown. All of this has taken it's toll on me. In such a short time. It feels like a lifetime already, but it has barely begun. One mere decade of adult hood, yet I am battered, broken, and sporting vicious scars. But sometimes, still fighting. Occasionally, at least.
I cannot help but wonder... what is it she sees? Does no one else see it? Oh, some may think they do. It's merely a picture. A facade. A manipulation. Find the right angle & we'll all resemble Angels.
I assure you, the real view... not so beautiful. Not so intruiging.
Unless you are 2 years old. Then, maybe.
The Tao of unsaying
5 weeks ago