Is it bad that if I were alone, I would've already done wrong without thinking twice?
I stared at the floor, the walls, the ceiling-
Anything but see my reflection.

I don't know what to do,
I'm wasting time,
Complaining,
But there is nothing I can do to escape my harshest critic.
The tears stream like raindrops,
And I am trapped. Trapped in a glass storm of my own creating- there is no escaping.
I will never be good enough.

I lifted my chin softly and whispered “No.”
Just ‘No.’
One word-
Two letters-
Three seconds of sound and silence.
But he whispered “Yes.”
Just ‘Yes.’
One word-
Two meanings-
Three iron-petal letters.
Whispered hints, barely an illusion carrying as much weight as iron chains seeped through my paper-thin skin, black ink poisoning my veins.
I was the ocean-
Waves crashing, raging against jagged cliffs.
I was the tide-
Seafoam gently lapping at smooth, sandy shores.

I stare him dead in eyes, his tears dripping down my cheeks.
I am at my worst, his shimmering illusion is at his best.

I’m giving myself reasons why, reasons why not, a list as long and convoluted as my past, but none of them matter.
I know I will never be good enough.

He sees me as light,
But I am only my shadow.