The Broken Mirror

I realized that the pinnacle of my mountain of femininity was, ultimately, only a single point. If I stood there on my mark, if I walked back to that x taped onto the stage to the sound of someone shouting, “Places!,” I would never be able to move again. And the point really only fit one foot. I would be in an arabesque penchée for the rest of my existence, trying and forever failing to turn myself into the plot line I was never scripted to breathe in anyway. An x-axis without a why. A princess never allowed to put her foot down without Prince Charming returning that damn glass slipper.

The thing is, I’ve sat at the top of tall structures, begging myself not to jump. I didn’t know why I was there; I didn’t know why I wanted so badly to die; and I didn’t know why I felt so irredeemably broken and ruined and shattered and grotesque.

I spent my entire life consumed by the broken mirror entrée.

i wanna stargaze with you
cause i saw the flicker
in your eyes
turns out
it was reflecting
the flames in mine

i wanna stargaze with you
knowing that i don’t need
to be in the midnight blue
to feel the velvet
wrap around me

starry starry night sky
just feeling free
feeling infinity, eternity
reflected in the broken
pieces off the wall

mirror, mirror
how did it feel to fall
and break to pieces?
reeling like a movie
or like a ferris wheel

going in circles
there with their couples
their binaries
eating ice cream
and funnel cake

how did it feel
to be the vessel
that filled you
with so much
hate

compulsory existence isn’t mine
it’s time i let go of this deadline
and held onto my lifeline
it’s always been there
like an acrobat trying to fly

i’m scared to jump
but hey, it’s just that time

i practiced on all those roller coasters,
those slip n’ slides, those waterpark rides

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