I see myself in the mirror, 

staring back at me my eyes, 

nose, mouth, nicely shaped 

face. 

Pleased with the picture.

Young, beautiful, I wink and think: 

what a hot mess

behind the fasade. 

Someone once will want me.

Will it be for my face or for me?

With every wrinkle,

more distant lover. 

With every word I say, 

less love. 

The only person 

loving Me, is me. 

And even that love

at the end of the day

appears tough.