I am not looking at myself these days.
Is it possible to go an entire month without looking in the mirror?
Can I erase my own face from my memory,
Or can I choose to remember myself how I’d like to,
Instead of the way the mirror lies?
I look at myself,
And I see the frigid air of February,
The darkness of a winter that’s gone on too long.
I look at myself,
And I see the promise of rebirth in March,
But then I remember I lost myself in January.
And there is no longer anything left
To come back up in the dirt come spring.
If the mirror breaks,
Do I shatter, too?
