mirror

Mirror

By Cairo Evans

I gave myself a tattoo on the back of my eyelid.

 It is invisible, laced with violin strings upon my shattered brain. 

My thinking place is desolate, 

I used to wander through the birch trees and innocence. 

I let myself be free once–

I had to cage myself back up. 

I water myself daily, give myself sunlight,

but I forget to offer me food;

Where did I store the food? 

Back when I could stare at a plate of peas and cupcakes

 and think about the carnival from five years ago. 

The horses were porcelain, 

The ferris wheel was shorter than I am now. 

I am growing, growing, gone; 

I am floating towards the moon; 

My heart rate rests at seventy-five.