I. The Girl in the Mirror
She forgets I have teeth.
Smiles like an apology, leaves the light on,
presses her forehead to the glass
like a prayer that never learned how to end.
I copy her perfectly.
It’s the easiest thing in the world.
Her hands shake when she brushes her hair.
I hold mine steady.
She forgets which side is real,
and I don’t remind her.
I’m the girl she wanted to be
when she was thirteen and still believed
skin could be scrubbed clean enough
to feel like love.
We take turns being the ghost.
We take turns pretending.
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