She is the closest I will ever get to meeting myself
Her waist thinner than mine
Like she was pulled out a little longer in the taffy press of life

In another life we would have been best friends
But today I don’t know what her hands mean
Are they stronger than I am?
Is she?
Because she only shares her wildest dreams
And her paper smiles
Are the ones without the scissor nicks

I would like to see the version of her that she only shows herself
I would like to see the mistakes
And the first drafts
Instead of the paper doll
She pretends to be

Because how can a woman who refuses to acknowledge
Her rips and tears
Ever ask for tape?