Her mirror must be broken.
Maybe she should take it back to where she bought it.
Because when she looks into it,
The reflection brought back to her is an image of imperfection.
This is the girl that hides online behind a keyboard confidence.
With images of what she wants to be locked in the bottomless pages of her Internet history.
It’s outside that she should really be.
Out where curls of hers that change colour according to the seasons should be hanged out for everyone to see.
She has no reason to want to disguise her hazel eyes from the real world.
And no reason not to open them up and realise how beautiful she really is to everyone else but herself.
How beautiful she is to me.
For I know if she was ever to be mine I’d have her smothered in a sea of blankets,
And it's waves of sheets would consume her with all the reasons why she's the opposite of what her broken mirror shows her.