Mirror Greeting


When I don’t understand what I’m feeling,
I check in the mirror,
to see if it’s all in place.

All resting there,
in the crevices of my face.

Usually it’s present,
there in my features,
long before I can make out,
it’s meaning in logical sequence.

It’s painted there ever so clearly,
in my natural make-up,
for that day or evening.

No choice or warning,
of when this desired spurs a meeting,
it calls without greeting.

Draped over my features,
I see its face, contorting my own,
making a temporary home.

Massaging it out,
I smooth the creases,
willing myself out
of its suffocating reaches.

Published by Hayley McManus

I'm a writer who wants to share more content, instead of keeping them jammed in many notebooks in fear of anything and everything illogical.

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