Air Conditioning

Mirror

There's a mirror in the bathroom,
And the reflection is similar on each side.

There's a mirror in the bathroom,
But for a long time, it wasn't a reflection staring back.

Now that it is, you avoid looking at it,
Avoid thinking about it,

Cover all the mirrors with tapestries, towels, and sheets-

It's not worth your time to gaze into a reflection of what you have right in front of you.

But the mirror- the reflection- it's not quite true to form.

If you look a little closer, the smiles don't quite reach the eyes like they do on your side,

And there's scabs on their lips, bags under their eyes, and maybe grit teeth,

And when you think 'I love you' like it's your salvation,
They think 'I love you' like they're begging. Like they're trying to convince themselves that there's no doubt.

But things are always darker in the mirror. For awhile, there was a mirror in my bathroom,

And the reflections weren't the same.

My side had a pair, but it was lonely in the reflection,

But both smiles were sad, and both tears were real,

And when I placed my hand on that mirror, I could feel the warmth of the reflection matching me.

Now you're the one with the mirror,
And the reflection only gets the cold dark that comes with the tapestries, towels, and sheets.

When I put my hand on the mirror, cold and dead, I beg myself to find the strength to ball my fist up and throw it,

Break that mirror to shards and let it slice me open. It's what I deserve anyway.

The sting. The bleeding. The hurt.

But instead I linger at the way that sheet moves, flows with the wind of the occasionally opened window,

Proof that things are happening on the other side. Proof that people are still living there.

That promise I made before we last parted, I wonder,

Do you still want me to keep it?