On the one hand, a ring, and on the left, she’s bare
She’s caught beneath her ribs and under her hair
It’s being the outcast in the in-crowd,
Her voice is soft, her thoughts loud,
The left lives in the city, and her right, in the mountain
Excited to grow old, but still searching for the Fountain
Spent endless nights with Netflix on the couch
And countless days chasing dreams
She’s been caught reading books on the treadmill
And lifting the sheets where there’s nothing between
On clenching her fist and stopping someone else’s
On being real while grasping onto optimism
Reflections of myself, in one journal, two
For the demon in me and the angel, too
Looking from the outside in, and being the subject
So many secrets, but so social, so public
She’s a Gemini with a June birthday
Her eye on the prize, and her eye on you
A kiss in the dark, a glance in the light
Thief by day, a lover by night
These reflections of her, piece by piece
Seen in this mirror, I swear it, they’re me.
