me, to a male friend a couple of days ago

yes i know i seem very cool, rational (?) and laid back sometimes
but don't ever forget that first of all, i am a woman! so...
whimsicalness wins most of the time

sorry, nature precedes, and... huh? i am actually thankful for that

a woman alone in the house

7.35am

she wakes up
the corner of her eye glimpses a reflection on the living room’s old mirror
dry lifeless hair
wrinkles around the eyes, not deep yet not subtle, marked as the wounds on her gentleness once
piebald skin
a shrug of bitterness she wears this morning, instead of a smile
a bent back hides her body, her breasts
what repulsive view! how ugly i am!
but of course i am alone, she retorts
how could any man like me? whispers to herself
self pity, self fault
her unattractiveness blamed, long cause of lonesomeness

5.23pm (later on the same day)

the same mirror for a second time in the day
distracted, all the errands a busy day
walking by the mirror fast wondering if she could escape the mirror’s old manias
his tendencies to all reflect
yet she stops all at once
not anymore afraid of it
the sight is so different now!
her hair after a day of its own humectation, shines & falls flawlessly on her forehead
the way that he used to like it
when he was close long ago, one day
it even smells fine!
the wrinkles seem less deep now
long lashes lustrous & lengthy soulful stare, bringing out the deep color of her eyes
the walk & little sun brought out an unexpected pretty blush to her face
now she smiles and her striking white teeth fill the room with a different light
a deep breathe fixes her posture
she is not in such a bad shape after all, at least for her age, she likes her breasts!
but i alone in the house now, as always,
she cries, and no-one to share no one to stare her new found beauty or to divide the caresses
with this unique moment of hers
no other than her lonely reflection on that mirror
he is never besides her
upset, throw to the mirror a blanket
she beautiful now not ugly like some hours before
yet lonely still
she goes and cries unaided on her bed, again, blameworthy of being always just…
herself

beautiful or ugly, a woman always blames herself for her loneliness…