Broken Mirrors by @Yholar

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I smiled at the mirror today.
I liked the curve of his smile.
It had a mischievous tilt. His smile reached his eyes. T
he smile of a man who enjoyed his life.
A man who lived to the fullest.
A man who was an accomplished liar.
A man who lived firmly behind his mask.

I grinned at the mirror this morning.
I like his grin.
It was the chuckle of a carefree man.
A man accustomed to riding the winds.
A man living by the seat of his pants.
A man gifted at hiding his fears.
A man who whitewashed the dark walls of his heart.

I laughed at the mirror this morning.
I liked his laugh.
The mirth echoing through the empty house.
It was the laugh of a heart-throb.
A man basking in the adoration of others.
The laugh of a confident man.
The laugh of a man hollow inside.
The laugh of a man wishing he wasn’t him.

My mirth exhausted.
I frowned at the mirror.
And I liked my frown.
It was the frown of an honest man.
Brows furrowed, eyes intensely staring into my soul.
It echoed my insecurities.
It spoke volumes about battles with fears.
Raging demons battled ragged angels behind the stern stare.
I saw it all.

I cried at the mirror this morning.
Spilling delicate tears.
Watery colorless silent rose petals
Washing a soul clean of fears.
Heightening the awareness of aloneness.
I liked my tears.
A raging flood of dew drops.
Thunder storms carried by a gentle breeze.
They were tears of a man afraid he would not amount to much.
They were lubricants trying to help the square pegs into the round hole.
They were good tears.

I cut myself in front of the mirror this morning.
I bled very red blood.
I liked my blood.
It was the blood of a man blessed with a curse.
It was the blood of a man who could see his blindness.
It was the blood of a starving man in a larder stocked with food beyond his reach.
I like my blood.
As I watched it slowly drip into the sink. My eyes gently closed.
A curtain of darkness sweeping over my consciousness.
I like my blood I think again.
As I fade into the dark.

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project goes on with next Friday’s story.

You can still send in your own true beneath the smile stories to obafuntay@gmail.com

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