When I Last Saw Me.

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She appears lovingly every now and again in moments of laughter. Peaks through when surrounded by those she adores. But those times are so infrequent that I barely recognize her presence there.

I'm not even sure how she's been. Has she evolved? Is her favorite color still pink? Do the small things in life still bring her joy? The good, happy things. 

I have to admit there are times when I sit alone in silence and can hear her slowly creeping in. An essence gilded in confusion, roaming here and there. No true direction, speaking truths I don't care to hear.

When it's just us there's no place for pleasantries, no room for small talk. We only have space for unrelenting realities, unmet expectations, unresisting fear. 

And in that, the base of what we have now become together, I don't recognize her. I don't recognize the face in the mirror she holds to me. 

In fact, I can't remember the last time I saw me. 

 

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