I loathe her and love her
She’s me but she isn’t
With same wide eyes
And slant to the nose
I see her every day
Yet’ve never heard her voice
She listens when I process
And always lets me finish
She looks me in the eye
And maybe even smiles
I despise her most
When I talk too much
Yet love her still in spite
She’s me, after all
Even when she is not
I look at the glass
And study her face
What part of me is You?
For even when she’s hard to see
I know, deep down
Some part of You is me.
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