Dorosła

unnamed.jpgOn this side of yesterday
I can’t very well understand
the quick shifts, quakes and
undulations that estrange me
from my former self.

Upon the glass, another girl
stares back at me- each day
more unrecognizable, eyes
taken over by a steeliness,
or some iron ore.

On this side of yesterday
I frantically try to reclaim
the light that used to dance
on irises and seemed to skip
from lash to lash.

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