Short Talk on my Reflection
Looking in the mirror at night
I’ve discovered that time travel and the epitome of magic begins with our reflection, the tugging urge to press our fingertips against the clear glass and melt into another world. Were people as enchanted by rusted silver as we are with our bathroom fixtures? In the evening, I lock myself in the bathroom, when every sound is asleep. I gaze at the figure in mismatched pyjamas and flip a coin to decide whether to smile or cry. I fix my fingers through the folds of soft cheap fabric and impulsively clean the counters to procrastinate my bodily needs. Sometimes the anger boils so hot I come inches away from 7 years of bad luck. Instead, I splash the cold water over my many faces and fingers and decide it's time for bed.
About the Creator
Mya Doerksen
Hi there, I'm a student, a writer and an aspring author. At the moment I'll mostly be posting shorts, school assignments or challenge submissions.
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More stories from Mya Doerksen and writers in Poets and other communities.
Cyber crime
I've cried so many nights, handled shame and pain for something that I never did. There was no one who could fight for me and defend me to prove my innocence. Yet my faith in God kept me going. He gave me the grace to endure. Pain is part of me. I am now used to it. The scar is my necklace and I will proudly wear it. Only time will tell when that person will come out and tell me why he or she did that to me. This is my faith.
By Emos Sibu Poriei (Kaya)3 days ago in Poets
Comments (1)
"Sometimes the anger boils so hot I come inches away from 7 years of bad luck." The struggle of not breaking the mirror when I'm so mad is just too real.