Both Sides of the Mirror

I stand in front of the mirror naked.

I see hair that has greyed and doesn’t hold the bounce that it once did.
He sees a place to entangle his fingers when he feels the need to claim and control.

I see eyes surrounded by lines and creases developed over years of living hard.
He sees orbs that flash fire and passion at his command.

I see a mouth that has lost its plumpness, surrounded by hard lines of past sadness.
He sees a soft and supple place to explore, kiss and taste.

I see an aged décolletage of spots, marks and lost elasticity.
He sees a field to place soft kisses and gentle touch.

I see deflating breasts, their perkiness long gone.
He sees peaks to conquer and claim, lick, tease and suckle.

I see a belly, fuller and flabbier, marred with the stretchmarks of the children I bore.
He sees the garden that he planted, which I cultivated and delivered to him, his son and his daughter.

I see thighs missing the definition that once was.
He sees the gateway to glorious layers he wants to continuously peel open and explore.

I see a body, no longer young, pure, taught, unmarred and desirable.
He sees his whole world in absolute perfection.

I want to see me through his eyes.

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