my eyes lock with my eyes
two black holes, duplicated
suspended in space and time.
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i blink —
and the self-portrait shifts
late sun catching my skin
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different angles, same grief.
same insecurities etched in my mind
in indelible ink, magnified.
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i mirror pretty girls but i am not pretty.
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now i am narcissus
staring at my silver reflection.
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lean in too close to the looking glass
and you will fall right in
pray and remember vanity is a sin.
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now i am a lake
swallowing body dysmorphic lies.
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i don’t know if i am eating or drowning.Â
Kaitlyn Sun (she/her) is a part-time poet and full-time magical girl. She fights mental demons with words. Her work appears or is forthcoming in The Groke, The Cackling Kettle, Forget-Me-Not Press, and Querencia Press, among others. Find her at @sad.magical.girl on Instagram.Â