The Trans Atlantic Route

As I sit before a mirror

Thinking of “I love you”

Upon a hill of bricks

Not a comfortable seat

But more action

Than my ass has had

In years.

I tap on the table in front of the mirror

While I look at myself in it.

Eyes that have seen the sun rise

A horrible crime

Many men tell me they don’t love me

Or don’t want to be with me anymore.

Cheeks that have been kissed by the rain

And hit

With sharp words

From a loose tongue.

A nose that smelled the fog

A rapists cologne

Fire that ravaged my house

Burning flesh

Protecting a child.

A mouth that tasted a snowflake

that gently fell to Earth.

Said too much to people

That never cared.

Cussed at people

That didn’t deserve it.

Spoke out of turn

More than once.

I pull a rock out from under me

Then began to fall from my seat

I got angry about that

Threw the rock at the mirror

Blowing it into a thousand pieces

Hoping a shard cuts me

So I can bleed.

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