Dec 2020
Sometimes I wish there were two of me;
And sometimes I wish there were none of me.
I wonder, if I were to split myself down the middle clean,
What I would do with either side.
Maybe I would send my right side to school;
While my left side mellowed in poetry all alone at home.
Maybe my left side would fall in love;
And my right side love herself.
I think I would teach my right side manners; she would talk very properly, with her posture being straight and definite. Her hair would be braided into eight neat sections, not one strand being audacious enough to fall out of place onto her forehead. She would sit with her fingers clasped neatly on the lap of her freshly pressed dress. Her smile would be bold but not daring; with dainty dimples guarding her cheeks. She would be the most beautiful girl you’ve ever met. She would be the fresh dew coating morning grass; she would be the last sip of peppermint tea in December. That would be my right side.
I probably would be a lot easier on my left side. I would set rules but probably forget to enforce them, maybe. My right side would be jovial and carefree. She would wear neons and bellbottoms so wide they swept up every splinter she graced over. She would wade in the bog in August’s damp mornings and you’d be shocked when a splash of water touched her unkempt hair and the slightest curl would form under the frizz. She would love anyone aimlessly like the hopeless romantic she was; she would break hearts and she sure would get her heart broken; but she wouldn’t mind, a broken heart to her was nothing but a separation of phenomenal worlds, and in fact she missed revelling in the fiction of her own. She would be the weeds lining your back yard; every last one of them. The yellow dandelions that you would never pluck because you wanted them to grow into the white fluff that you could make wishes on. That would be my left side.
Except when reality hits, I remember I can’t split myself in two. So I guess my left side and my right side will remain where they are, being the prince and the pauper of my conscious thoughts. They might not be completely fiction; however, I know that because I’ve met them before. Sometimes my right side counts sheep for me before bed, while my left side smiles radiantly at me when I wake up. If only they could ever meet each other, I know they’d become inseparable. They do say that opposites attract, you know.
Two-faced
(12.12.2020)
—adrianatamara
And sometimes I wish there were none of me.
I wonder, if I were to split myself down the middle clean,
What I would do with either side.
Maybe I would send my right side to school;
While my left side mellowed in poetry all alone at home.
Maybe my left side would fall in love;
And my right side love herself.
I think I would teach my right side manners; she would talk very properly, with her posture being straight and definite. Her hair would be braided into eight neat sections, not one strand being audacious enough to fall out of place onto her forehead. She would sit with her fingers clasped neatly on the lap of her freshly pressed dress. Her smile would be bold but not daring; with dainty dimples guarding her cheeks. She would be the most beautiful girl you’ve ever met. She would be the fresh dew coating morning grass; she would be the last sip of peppermint tea in December. That would be my right side.
I probably would be a lot easier on my left side. I would set rules but probably forget to enforce them, maybe. My right side would be jovial and carefree. She would wear neons and bellbottoms so wide they swept up every splinter she graced over. She would wade in the bog in August’s damp mornings and you’d be shocked when a splash of water touched her unkempt hair and the slightest curl would form under the frizz. She would love anyone aimlessly like the hopeless romantic she was; she would break hearts and she sure would get her heart broken; but she wouldn’t mind, a broken heart to her was nothing but a separation of phenomenal worlds, and in fact she missed revelling in the fiction of her own. She would be the weeds lining your back yard; every last one of them. The yellow dandelions that you would never pluck because you wanted them to grow into the white fluff that you could make wishes on. That would be my left side.
Except when reality hits, I remember I can’t split myself in two. So I guess my left side and my right side will remain where they are, being the prince and the pauper of my conscious thoughts. They might not be completely fiction; however, I know that because I’ve met them before. Sometimes my right side counts sheep for me before bed, while my left side smiles radiantly at me when I wake up. If only they could ever meet each other, I know they’d become inseparable. They do say that opposites attract, you know.
Two-faced
(12.12.2020)
—adrianatamara
My right side represents academics, intelligence, and primness. My left side represents philosophy, art, and passion.
