I sleep when the stars forget to shine,
Eyes wide open, scrolling time.
2AM — my haunted hour,
Where silence hums with quiet power.

One night, the mirror caught me off-guard,
No angles, no edits, just me — hard.
Muscles softened, edges blurred,
A body I knew, now slightly slurred.

Flesh where firmness used to cling,
Like my strength got up and left in spring.
No tears, just a stare too long,
Half "move on," half "what went wrong?"

He said, "You’re glowing, sexier than ever,"
But my mind replied, "Used to be better."
That’s the fight, that hush, that scream —
Between self-love and the beauty dream.

But maybe beauty doesn’t stay still —
Maybe it melts, reshapes at will.
Maybe I’m more than just the tight skin days,
More than mirrors, more than praise.

Maybe I’m art —
still becoming, still wild,
A moon in motion,
a soft, tired child.