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Everyday
she studies me.
A different luxury
hanging from her neck, her fingers.
Lips curled in satisfaction.
Everyday
she brings home another reflection.
A guy—sometimes a girl—that never glances at me
even once.
Or come back a second time to see the
hollowed eyes, the
humourless laughs, a
tired face, that
I see
every
day.
I try
to touch her,
but they hold me back, this invisible barrier,
hissing of the retribution if I cross the line.
And I wonder
How am I alive when I’m
Not supposed to be?
That night,
I sat below the lonely sky
running my fingers along the empty glass wall
and whispered,
Where does it hurt?
Everywhere
Everywhere
Everywhere,
she answers.
A quiet, raspy voice, and
my heart breaks,
For me and
for her.
A mirror and a broken human.
The Girl On The Other Side
By melvina cheong
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