Mirror, Mirror

Shed off the shrouds of deceit,
and gaze intently at my nude form in the mirror.

The mirror,
that liar.

That girl,
she can't be me.

Where are the curves that invite
hands to slide down from
full breast to smooth rounded hips delicious?
Where, pray tell mirror,
did these pointy sharp hips come from?

they look like weapons.
Sharp-
ready to wound.
Collarbones like switchblades.
The stomach too flat, and my Lord-
What is that posterior?
The shape is right,
the size is not.

Mirror, you lie to me.
That woman-
She looks hard.
She looks sad.
She looks mean.
She looks troubled.
She does not look like me.

I smile.
I laugh.
I make merry.

That lady with the dead eyes,
so critical,
the hard jaw...

No-I deny it.

Instead,
I go to the closet,
grab clothes to cover my shame.

The pants need to be belted to stay up.

Damn you mirror.