I often think back

To a girl I knew

Purple buzz-cut

Beaming grin

Bright red lips

A life so unlike my own

 

And I look in the mirror

At the girl I am

All auburn locks

Soft smile

Lips painted a nude pink

The same girl, but changed

 

In just a year

So much more than my hair has grown

And I have stopped

Scraping my fingertips

Tracing on headstones

The names of long-lost friends

 

I have stopped grieving

And I have quit

Hiding pain behind a smile

Too wide to be real

 

I am growing

Maturing

(I am supposed to)

And they call them

Growing pains

For a reason

And I will keep

Moving forward

Moving forward

In any way

Is a good thing