The women who looks back at me asked me who I thought I was fooling today. Nothing I wore would convince anyone that I was as tough as I tried to look, as strong as I presented myself to be. She laughed as I sprayed my pseudo-punk hair, knowing that anyone could see through the facade of courageousness. As I brought the black wet brush to my eye, she crinkled them, messing the mask I put between, blurring the harsh lines of my eyeliner. “Honey so long as you let your chocolate centre glow, who the hell is going to believe you? You’re sad and scared and faithless when you look at me.” I decided to wear a hat today.

I have to stop listening to Coldplay. (Where are your Green Eyes now? You always placed me in the frame of your other women, a composite of lost women.) Because I don't have to energy to miss you anymore, I miss you missing me. Who is left to miss me now?