What Love Used To Look Like

Unfamiliar

I looked at the mirror one day for almost an hour, hoping to find myself there. 

I couldn't recognize the face that looked back at me. 

She was unhappy. 

She just lost the sweetest smile she had ever seen, and had no idea how to drive herself back, and comfort the grieving child inside her. 

I traced her eyes on the reflection. 

"Are those mine?" 

Why were her eyes brimming with tears when I couldn't feel any pain at all? 

Why were her lips turned upside-down when my heart was numb and cold? 

She was mad at me, for feeling nothing. 

I was mad at her, for showing too much of her misery before breakfast. 

So what, that everything she'd known was a lie? 

Everything's a lie these days? 

Why does it matter so much that she missed him? 

I didn't miss him. 

I was burning with passion for him. 

But all that passion burned out, replaced by blanks and holes no one could ever fill in again. 

She looked unfamiliar, caged in the body of a stranger. 

I shrugged my shoulders in surrender, just wanting her to go away.