There is a woman who stalks me her hair is long and auburn and each morning when I turn on the bathroom light she is there waiting in the mirror with her startled face for the past few years she has appeared scrutinizing every line and wrinkled crease pointing out flaws leaving her subliminal message scratched upon my age defying makup "delicately worn it says" she leaves no privacy to morning rituals and has become a brazen voyeur in my secret place her eager eyes peel away my gown leaving my soul naked stripped of self esteem Now an accustomed routine she and I for a few minutes each day play this game for I have found out her secret age is only an illusion if you turn on the lights and look into the liar's mirror poetrybykassanna copyright:2003