Her
She stared at me through the glass today, her experession: surprise.
Can that really be you? she asked me with her eyes.
I stared back at her as she turned to the side
and thought at once that the old windows lied.
She was pretty today - skinny, not fat -
even though her makeup was smudged and her hair was not flat.
I thought back to the days we'd trade glances.
But those were times when we had different dances.
Her eyes would be cold, filled with loathing, accusing.
It seemed like every time we'd meet we'd both end up losing.
I'd turn to the side and she'd look up and down
and then she would meet my eyes with a frown.
It hadn't always been that way,
it just happened one day.
We grew up together, but we were worlds apart.
She and I were best friends from the very start.
People called me vain because they didn't know
there was a girl through the window I met long ago.
I remember one time when I was mad as can be
She tried to break the window just to be with me.
I told her my secrets and she knew all my tears
and in turn I've been there for her through all of these years.
We know each other so well that we're almost reflections,
but at some point we started to notice the imperfections.
Most days were easy and things would be fine,
but some days were tough and someone would cross the line.
Even still we would talk for hours on end
Because she would always be my very best friend.
When I look through the glass, I know it's just me.
Unless maybe it's her that I really see.