If mirrors held memories,

could they not share them with me?

That surface that we only see ourselves in.

The only way to see our persona.

Yet, they never blink.

Never blink nor shed a tear the reflective crystal

essentially working 24/7 365.

For a mere payment of

insight.

While we curse what they show us,

insisting they must be falsifying an image,

or accusing it of being warped.

Isn’t it unfair and exhausting for them?

To hold so many a memory of anguish?

Hold it in each frame of itself,

until the pressure is too much,

And something gives it the permission to shatter.

Only breaking at the force of another.

Yet amongst the shards and shattering

it still works.

No matter how broken or estranged

it does it’s job doesn’t it?

So if mirrors hold memories,

I hope it finds time to make it’s own.

Not to be at the will of the world around it

it’s beck and call.

To remain accurate amongst what it may witness.

Selfishly, to keep them away from me.

Don’t remind me of my lows,

and my hours spent picking at blemishes.

Share with anyone but me.

Everything is just as it is meant to be.