Reminders
I slide a ring upon my wounded finger and smile delicately at myself. The mirrors lay in shards in my bathroom and the shower stays wet all the time. But still i keep my skin stitched together even though it wants to rip, tear and shred. Moonlight slices shadows on my pale skin. My appearance is mangled by the mirrors in the bathroom. Why do they reflect me as such? And the blood that surrounds them is drying into mud, but i keep it dirty to remind me. To remind me...to remind me of what? I forgot to remember and the lesson is lost behind years of hatred and hurt. But i keep the mirrors broken, and the blood dried on tile, and the years and years of matted lonliness caught behind a bathroom door. The trashcan lies overflowing. the toilet remains untouched except for the fingerprints i have abandoned there. And the shower will always remain wet.