The chill of the cafe
wraps around my arms
a shawl to keep the warm at bay
my reflection in the window
Glances up at me once again
she's pretty, this window girl
with legs that are slim
hair that shines a pretty blonde
there's a hole in her chest though
where the light doesn't bounce
an emptiness in her torso
where the landscape goes in
and the girl fades out
this blend, this meshing of
flawed human and
perfect nature
it blurs the imperfections
the spots on her skin
the lackluster lips
all disappear in the
glow of the cafe window
she's perfect, this mirror girl
with streetlamps and
tree trunks in her chest
filling the spaces where
the lonely would go
where heartache would stay
where sadness would dwell