The crack in my mirror
weaves around my shoulder
through my heart.
Standing before the distorted reflection
waiting for blood to drip from the wound
holding still enough to imagine
long enough to remember.
Some mornings it runs through my face
and I feel beautiful
different than the people
driving past my window.
Beautiful like an extinguished cigarette
curled up and peaceful
having lived out its existence
with purpose.
When I am finally pulled from the mirror
I want to burn just long enough
to be beautiful
then curl up
peacefully.
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