Tonight, the sea is a sheet of glass,
holding the moon’s timid face.
“Don’t look at me—
but don’t look away.”
I lean toward her under the water,
my face bruised with sadness,
trembling beside hers
in awe of still beauty.
Two girls gaze back at me—
sheepish, curious, luminescent:
one made of ache,
one made of flame.
Her eyes—two diamonds
cut from the tears of indifference.
Drops fall into the lake,
ricocheting sorrow into smile.
I reach to touch their faces,
but their reflections dissolve—
a shimmer undone by my hand.
I try to gather the pieces,
but the more I gather,
the deeper they sink
to the bottom of the water.
I lost the only friend
who looked like me.
Now my face alone—
a ghost-girl drowning in her own reflection,
born from love, but never for it.
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