I catch a glimpse in a mirror,
Reflecting a picture of me,
And noticing not quite perfection,
What is it, he sees?
The eyes, now tired, slightly jaded,
The years of pain etched on my skin,
My hair now losing its lustre,
I’m still way too thin.
I study that face in the mirror,
Devoid of cosmetic reprieve,
I search for a much younger version,
And wonder now,
When did she leave?
I think about him, now as always,
The mirror, it seems never lies,
A young girl is standing before me,
As a perfect disguise.