Look a bit deeper;
In between your pores
Deep into your throat.
They speak what you cannot,
Compel your fright.
Hiding behind smiles,
Thriving on tears.
Fuzed together;
You as a counterpart:
A host.

Pick, tweeze, pull, pluck:
   Glance in the mirror for my next tuck.

      Here's a confession: it's a horrible obsession.
         My beauty is no longer in my possession.

I'm manufactured; a walking billboard of cosmetics.
   I'm but skin covered metal and prosthetics.

     Try as I may, reality will never meet my ideal distortions.    
        I no longer know my natural proportions.

Meeting up at what used to be a frequently visited coffee shop: I ordered mine black while you requested an iced mocha; our usual drinks. You told me my hair had grown quite long, as if my hair's length made you realize how long we've been strangers. I looked deep into your eyes: mocha with swirls of melted ice water and milk, just like your coffee. As I recognized your soft smile, I felt the edges of my heart crack. Although I sat close enough to smell the soft scent of your laundry detergent, it was as if you were still 422 miles