It’s uncanny.
Somehow, I am more beautiful
when you’re around.
How does that happen, so suddenly,
so unexpectedly. I barely recognize myself.
This must be happy. There in the reflection.
I never say this out loud to anyone,
not even you. That’s not who I am –
the girl who thinks she’s the most beautiful
creature in space. I am the girl
who looks past her mirror image
to see who else is reflected.
I spend my life searching through backwards
phantoms, not flesh, but light and glass,
and I hope for the best for us all.
But if I tell the truth, I am not happy
most of the time. I am flawed
and it is dangerous to exist so close
to this breakable surface. I could smash
my fist into this pane most days,
but I won’t. Because there are moments
where this is worth it. Enough
to keep me smiling and laughing
for the crowd. There is always a crowd,
too, that is also uncanny.
Oh, I wish they’d all just take a step back
because those objects appear too close
as it is. But you, you could take a step up,
put your hand on my shoulder, and I could smash
this mirror and be beautiful without ever looking.
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