My sister lives in a house with no mirrors

She once told me that she didn't see herself for six whole months and while most people put her on a pedestal for her humble home In the mountains
I understand why she's frightened of her own reflection

See as children our mother wouldn't allow us to look in the mirror when we were upset
As if a monster hiding behind the shower curtain would swallow our little bodies and feed off our grief
Death was no secret to us
   To this day my sister avoids bathrooms

Recently I stood infront of the mirror looking directly into my own eyes
I watched as they boiled over
Each time I do this I see myself cry for the first time
The monsters my sister and I ran from are
Weeping
Wailing
Asking me for forgiveness

I now lay on the bathroom floor after showers and watch the way the light dances off the mirror into the darkest corners of our bathroom

Behind the shower curtain is empty

Beside the toilet is a plunger

And even when I open the cabinet under the sink little glimpses of light outline expired bubble bath and cleaning products