Ekphrastic Mirror

I feel like I’m looking at a portrait when I look in the mirror,

with no connection, no loyalty to that reversed image.

I become a critic near every reflective surface.

The artistic process of my morning routine cannot hold up

under my scrutiny.

The real me is buried beneath twenty-five pounds of

Covergirl – a pound for every year of my life.

It desperately tries to cover the boy

that peaks out through the cracks in my veneer,

every night at 5pm, like an unwanted guest.

I used to prefer art because it cannot feel – it just exists.

That changed when my face became a canvas

that I have to examine and beautify every day.

Now, I barely exist; I just feel run-down, exhausted,

as I wait to be hung up

so you can critique me, too.

#poetry #thevenuscomplex #art #photography #makeup #beauty