they say they barely recognize
the girl in front of them.
they say i look tired or sick
or dead behind the eyes.
I listen to their worries, for them,
and give them what they’re after.
Reassurance that ‘i’m fine’.
what i refrain from telling them
is that i finally resemble
the girl i’ve been inside this whole time.
hung up to dry.
dead behind the eyes.
to the point of walking dead.
the girl they finally see?
she’s the one i’ve seen in the mirror
this whole time.
she’s was standing right in front of them
but they didn’t look close enough to see.