And the mirror was her friend (whatever happened to that?)

 i find it troublesome to open the letter

but i can't give it up in my head

 when i roll my eyes across the line

 and toss the the paper in the recycling bin

 it appears once more

 underneath my pen

my hand shakes- too much coffee i'm sure

 my hand shakes- in my late teens i'm getting older

 this happens to everybody--

 hell, i keep denying me.