Reflection

It is hard to make friends

with that girl.

She stands before me very morning.

Never greets me with a smile,

but rather coldly, and with the frown I know so well.

I want to say "Hello, beautiful."

But I have no control as she starts

what I knew she would,

but still hoped she would not.

First the foundation is slathered on.

It hides her skin.

The mascara that goes on next

makes her lashes dark and coarse.

I see the smoke rise from her curler.

It feels as if a million outfits come on and off

before she reluctantly settles on one.

The worst part is that

I must do everything that she does.

I am a partner in a crime I can not

stop.

A crime that is intended to beautify,

but in truth hides

her flawlessness.