MIRRORS by Melis Gordem

i walk across a dimly lit hallway
and stumble upon a woman of 5’10”
standing opposite of me.
she looks bewildered,
but at the sight of me,
her face softens back to its natural state.
without saying a word,
i start picking her apart.

i immediately take notice of her face:
chocolate eyes that melt under the sun,
hair wavy enough to cascade onto her shoulders,
stubby nose that grossly enlarges once she breaks into a laughing fit,
lips as plump as the cherry of her youth,
and to top it all off,
a faded scar rests on her right cheek;
enough to make you wonder,
what happened?

she smiles at my scrutinizing curiosity
and as if to taunt me, she starts posing by:
emphasizing her hips,
showing off the legs she’s been given,
widening her smile to portray her lips,
gentle hands placed on her sides, might as well call me smitten.

she sticks out her tongue,
teasing me for judging
her external state
while dismissing the labyrinth
of her internal state.
all her complexities wrapped around
each and every blood vessel,
gripping the conscious
and elements of her soul;
her heart full of gold.

i reach out towards her,
but my hand is stopped by glass.
somehow, her hand is touching mine.
i look up and smile at her,
for she is me:
the beauty and the observer.

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