February 2019

You liked all the music I liked.

Knew the lyrics—

even the rare ones.

Said you'd never met someone

who felt like home so quickly.

I believed you.

Because I needed to.

Because it felt good

to be seen—

even if I didn’t notice

the reflection

was only ever facing me.

You echoed my opinions.

My jokes.

My faith.

You studied me like scripture,

then repeated me back

like prophecy.

I told you things

I hadn’t told anyone.

About my mother.

The guilt.

The ways I felt broken.

You said you felt them too.

Said you’d never met someone

who understood you

like I did.

But I hadn’t spoken much

about you—

just about me.

And somehow

you matched every word.

At first,

I thought it was intimacy.

Soulmate stuff.

Divine compatibility.

But now I know—

it was technique.

You figured out who I was

so you could become it.

And once I was in—

once I loved you—

you didn’t need the mirror anymore.

You didn’t need to reflect me.

You just needed me

to stop

looking at myself.

Read the Next Poem

The First Fight