Sides
I try to hide a side of me
beneath false walls of charm
I bury it at low tide and
leave it there to drown
then panicky, hysterical
spinning on a dime
I rant and rave that in my haste
I’ve killed the wrong side.
I’ll stare into a mirror
watch my breath inflate my chest
and tell myself that every side
is exactly like the rest
and all that I can hope to do
is be my very best.
But sometimes in photographs
when the lighting is just right
you’ll capture it, my wrong side
in shadow, dark as night.
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