When I look into the mirror this evening,

I see laugh crinkles and smile lines.

A couple hairs greying,

the stubble that’s not too bad,

brown irises that stare back and inside them,

just a tingle of happiness that rocks my feet.

I see goodness that overcame trials;

Hours spent at the graveyard I built in my mind for people who left,

Broken memories that stink like cigars and whiskey, playing like a scratched CD,

Days spent on the couch in my underwear with chips and reality shows,

Taking my time to heal, to breathe a little more freely when I walked with an invisible burden,

and not to sigh every night when I laid my broken body on the welcoming sheets,

repeating little miracles like mantras in my head,

counting them on fingers bitten and rebitten.

trying to climb out of bed every morning, to appreciate the sun, to put another piece of me that I lost back in its place.

My eyes are more than brown. They’ve been to places everyone goes to in their own personal ways and when they returned to the reflection in front of me,

they were brighter and happy being brown. Just brown.

So when I look in the mirror, I see the leftovers of a fight; a damn hard one; a good one.

And there are no more traces of You.

The long sleeves hide my battle scars but You,

You are long gone.


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