Self Image

Morgan CooperApril 23, 2014

The way her eyes sparkle when she smiles at me

They show her true emotions.

But when I smile,

My eyes are dead

And tired.

My eyes don’t sparkle

Or shine.

Like hers do.

The girl I see everyday,

In the mirror

How I slump when I sit.

My back curved, almost like a ball.

My shoulders are near my ears

Her back straight like a tree

Her shoulders where they should be.

The girl I want to be

Her legs crossed at the knees.

Mine at the ankles.

I want to be like her.

But I’m not

Her delicate, gentle hands on each side of her body.

My fingers intertwined together in my lap,

I pick away at the rough, dead skin on my hands

I fidget, like I constantly need to be moving

But really

I’m thinking

About everything and anything.

Wanting to leave,

To get out of my head.

She, watches intently

She waits for something to happen

Waiting for me to do something.

Am I silent?

A chatterbox?

Or something in between?

Or do I only speak unless spoken to, maybe.

What is she?

She doesn’t speak,

She only watches.

Or is it how when I look at her

My eyes actually shine,

Like hers.

They reveal everything I hide away from the world

My secrets being shown to her

and only her.

The girl.

My reflection