Reflection in the Bathroom Mirror

I look back at the girl I used to be,

and just like her,

I am terrified.

I watch as she cries on the bathroom floor,

knowing she will have stains on the thighs of her jeans tomorrow morning.

I’d hug her if I could,

hold her in every second she ever felt alone,

but like glass she would break.

She convinces herself to shower,

hoping she’ll somehow dissolve and go down the drain.

She goes to sleep homesick for a place she doesn’t know exists yet,

I wish she could hear me scream that I’ve found it.

She wakes up wishing she hadn’t,

wondering what keeps her here,

but I whisper “thank you” to myself,

knowing it is me watching over her.


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