This poem was a collaboration with my good friend JadaBella Wyche. She created this wonderful painting, and I wrote this poem based on my interpretation of the painting. I highly recommend following her Instagram page, @jb.wyche.art.

She brushes the glass 
of the mirror leaning on the wall 
with eager fingertips.

The frame won’t let her through.
But it holds a girl with
corded kelp-gray hair
and lips the color blue.

Why won’t it let me through?

She never thought herself a monster,
but she meets her face,
and the girl she was is gone.

A ripple flares in the mirror.

The room stays still.

Her reflection sings
a forgotten song,
and her throat tightens
to sing along,
but her lips
push tighter together still.

She knows the note
that splits the sea
but leaves it in her lungs,
and she’s not sure why.

Her skin turns cold,
but not from old
regret or savory breeze.
 
The water knows—
she’s not afraid,
she’s just not ready to leave.

Inviting, oceans are,
but smarter too,
knowing better than
to let a girl lined with silver
drift away in restless open blue.

So she leaves the mirror humming,
to live the life she owes the world
and when her silver lining thins
and softly comes unfurled,
she’ll follow the sea’s sevenfold call,
the music in her mouth–
the waves will take her whole
and she’ll be her, without a casing
to keep the salt out.