There are two sides to this,
this mess.
Two completely different reflections in a funhouse mirror.
There’s the part of me that hears you
Hears your sweet words
And sees your full, gorging desires.
Your dark eyes haunt me as I brush my teeth and feed my cat.
They are a twisted trick, seducing me to hopes and dreams.
Of us.
And I stare back into the mirror. And there’s the part of me that
plays along and continues to talk about romantic scenarios of us.
As if they’re actually going to happen.
This is the enlongated, blurry, barely discernable reflection of something
that doesn’t even exist yet.
And then there’s the squat, fat, ugly reflection.
The truth.
The truth is you’re going to smash these mirrors one day.
For good.
And I’ll be standing among these shattered ideals,
cursing your name and digging my nails into my palms.
But you won’t know me.
You won’t recognize the real, heart and blood girl standing before you.