I got mad starring at the girl in the mirror
oh but that’s wrong, ain’t it?
not a girl anymore, woman in the mirror

touch to her face
and I felt it yet was not my intended
let me know too with longing
when I went to touch my face away from her

how the woman, with her hollow eyes
seemed silent yet I heard complaints
fantasies could not drown,
complaints I answered to by
living near a window

she mocked me

a woman with brown eyes
brown eyes that seemed not to capture
images my mind picks in that land
only a guard-less mind can state true

silly even time teases me
brushes my skin like glass would
like a feather would stay on a cheek;

while her eyes are vacant except for the mole
that draws my attention and says,
was I ever truly not captivating?

dreams they’re called,

The girl, pardon me
but yes the girl whom I tried to remind
she drew a moon first and called home
then we were only strangers

In my madness, I raised my voice
because noise would switch on her eyes
but the slap given by her house, mirror
introduced me to a fascination of my blood
slowly sliding down my freckled cheek patiently
only to stop without resistance

stayed there too became a sculpture
missed her eye by an inch;
tears aren’t that tenacious

“I’m wrong.”
my hunched ego said
“I’ll try harder.”
my debt said

but I could never honestly accept her
she was never me;

The girl I am had long left to her house
hanging on the clouds and
rainbow roads with rain as curtains,

the woman I recognised as myself,
dream she’s called,
told me if I’d dared to become acquainted with that girl
then I’d know truly how the sun is like up close

I got so mad looking at the girl in the mirror,
oh but that’s wrong, ain’t it?
not a girl anymore, woman in the mirror.

Brown eyed woman, the colour which
the woman I recognised as myself
had never seen till I opened my eyes
to the girl in the mirror.

Ah but time knows many tricks…