Broken-Mirror Eyes
Mock me, will you?
Throw back your head with a laugh you don't deserve.
Tell me that I'm all wrong
about things I was sure I knew.
Make me question
kisses and confidences.
Make me despise
your broken-mirror eyes.
They are seven years of bad luck, a cut that continues to bleed, a reflection of all that I hate in myself.
And they are pitiful
because they are so
broken.
And as I
remember
just how broken
they are -
you are -
my hate melts away.
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