2.14.2012

Daily he told me I was beautiful,
my breast cupped in his palm cured
me of any doubt. So you see why


I cannot gaze at my own nakedness.
Mirrors tell you nothing about love.
The tilted fir outside my window


stands taller than our house. Even if
I described each tuft, counted
branches, became its mirror,


you could never love it as I do,
understand how it kept me faithful,
stood watch with me when the other tree fell.

Doris Ferleger, Mirrors 


Mirrors tell you nothing about love.


(via thatkindofwoman)

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