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.
Michael Burrows 
1 thought on “Sides”