She was lovely.  Glowing blonde hair and an upturned mouth with pale grey eyes.  A volunteer, she came to listen.  Crossing her coltish legs, she would roost on the carpet, nodding in sympathy.  The day I broke, she pulled me in tight.  I noticed the marks when she lifted her sleeve to dry my tears.  When she was four, her mother had turned on the burners and laid her bare arms across.  Fortunately for me, she gave love another chance.

Long hair,

Glasses,

Slender,

Hidden playfulness

In a single smile.

I picked her out in a

Cacophony, crowded with many tongues

Bird cages,

And shadowed narrow streets.

Pretending like I knew the ropes

Though she was the one

I believed in love at first sight.

She giggled at all my jokes,

Wore anything and nothing,

Still looking delicious and innocent.

I loved her

Even when she forgot me

In between my letters, flowers,

And other memories.

Even now, it’s true.

Sweet innocence,

Coyness,

Contagious laughter,

Big, hopeful eyes,

Cherry lips,

Devoid of lies,

A doll

In miniature.

It took me a while

to realize

it is not a portrait

I am seeking,

but a reflection

in the mirror.