red dot little duck

The face in the mirror looks back with eyes I’ve known completely. Everyday I see them. Their shape… their color; these remain the same. What they see? Their vision – perception, shifts.

The limbs and middle I recognize. Everyday I see them. At times they appear as creatures from the depths. An underwater morphing. Constantly ridiculed. Dismembered. Luscious, even beautiful, turn short and stubby. Disfigured, botched, wretchedly hideous. What place is this? What eyes are these that could tell such lies?

The Past… it lines my lips with a frown and smiles.

“Blow kisses to those memories!” my heart calls out, “Dive deeper into the well!”