because sometimes mirrors lie

I looked at the reflection

listening to her describe

what she saw in that silvery sheet.

 

Her interpretation,

the words her mouth expressed

didn’t seem at all like what I observed,

for her truth was a wretched, hideous creature

that nobody could love,

somebody without any beauty

nothing worthwhile slightly dwelling

in the heart she saw as ugly.

 

How could I get this goddess

of such a sweet spirit and exquisite features

to truly see what that image had shown me?

 

So often I had tried to assure her

what she thought was her image

only existed in her brain and never in any way

cast the portrait anyone else had seen.

 

It was a conversation we had too many times,

even after she won a beauty contest,

still insisting that picture in her head

was the truth and that the mirror was distorted,

remembering what she has mentioned

about as a child her mother always criticized

until all she could envision in any glance

during those looking glass glimpses

just matched the mom’s invention.

 

Somehow we both muddied along in life,

disagreeing with what was seen,

still holding onto the hope

we would find a reason to think otherwise,

knowing everything changes

and even a mirror can be other than accurate

if your mind have vision problems.