Two mirrors face each other
and I am between them, lost in a portal to a world that is a reflection
of where I currently am, have always been.
Have I always been? Have I always walked through the same two doorways,
picking locks for hiding places?
Destinations doomed to dichotomies perk their heads up from
behind the me who meets my eyes, ask in desperate voices:
Do you deserve this?
I beg the mirrors to break, their taunts slither under my skin as if I were Eden,
but even snakes want to live, I cannot blame them.
The reflections crash against each other, the angles I was never meant to see.
I listen to the voices, frozen in light’s crossfire by the whispering
that if enough hits me, I’ll glow like the single satellite among the stars.
And no one will ever know the difference.
To be golden is to be heavy enough to crush
the air through my throat, some procrastinated
explanation of what it means to try this hard.
Have I done enough?
In these mirrors, I examine what I’ve earned
under the guise of names and grades and numbers.
Every space I’ve ever taken up.
The highlight reel lies in pieces at my feet.
