This Life is so Confusing.

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
What ever you see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful---
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
Mirror- Sylvia Plath

9 Comments:
great poem
Villanelle. ♠
WRITE
yay i can finally comment!
i really like your poem and especially your picture :)
-sara
Well, it isn't my poem, its Sylvia Plath's.
the deceiver (hehe) = extrodinary photographer
i have a hemotoma on my eye
i'm a gangster
guess who!
cammie.
?
you,my friend, your blog, like a mirror of my own emotions, devotions,
confusions
... nice but do it less creepy ;)
the last picture is overmuch, wouldchasay? *smeck smeck*smeck*
love you,
ali
ps. I AM BECOMING MYSELF AGAIN!!!
No, I wouldn't say. I like the second picture.
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