I saw you crying once. 

Outside of the bedroom late at night.
We had washed up after a party and dragged in the same old, bitter fight. 

Who was I to you? Why couldn’t you show?

So here we are:
You on the livingroom floor.
Me, peering through a crack in the bedroom I wished wasn’t ours. A hallway of mirrors fall between us and we cannot reach each other through our own reflection.
We would only see ourselves.


My Ego is A Girl

There is a girl who lives in me

She is very persuasive and angry.

She peels aways my fingernails when she sits too long without a say.

She lives in me in times of trouble and despair 

At times I find her inconvenient 

And I don’t want her there.

She questions all my motives

Brings present all the past

She is so absorbed 

in the miniscule rough drafts.

My goal is to educate her of the way things are

To use the waters of the tide 

to drift off this forsaken shore.

I worry she is not educated well enough to manage on her own.

I worry she doesn’t know her rights or will fight when she knows it’s wrong. 

My ego is a girl who lives to make me right.

She controls my smile, the one I haven’t seen all night.