The girl in the mirror is me.
Staring back at me as if I'm the reflection on the wall.
She's beautiful filled with all the things I seem to dismiss.
She's the epitome of peace, love, and femininity.
I can stare into her eyes forever and feel lost in her world of bliss.
I feel like a time traveler as I stare at her through this mirror on the wall.
Time seems to past differently here.
The more I stare the more amused I become with the structure and physic of her body. . . The way her hair is naturally wild, the size of her almond shaped eyes, her soft brown skin, her dimples that seem to be pierced into her cheeks, her face, arms, stomach . . . wow she's literally a work of art.
But why can't I feel that way about me all the time?
Why must I be filled with disgust at times with my appearance?
Why can't I love and admire me like I do her. . . If I am her?
YOU ARE READING
poems embedded in the deep galaxy of my mind ..
PoetryHere I will be creating a series of poems that I come up with for the sole pleasure of being shared.. I'm no pro at this and I'm a little rusty but hey why not give something I once and still am passionate about a shot.. the poems will vary from ero...
