The glinting silver
slides across my dark hair
as frayed ends fall to the sink.
As i cut my hair,
as i dirty my sink,
my shoulders lower, relaxed,
and the knots in my chest loosen.
I stare at my reflection
that I have met so many times
and she stares back, frowning.
I know not the woman in the mirror
whose hair changes every week,
whose face morphs and becomes twisted.
We are strangers,
me and this woman.
I will never know her.
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