Young Writers Society

There was a wiser woman before me,

I can see her in my eyes.

Her eyes stare back at me with an unfamiliar gaze

for no more than a split second as I scrutinize my reflection.

The wiser woman looks at me quizzically

and asks me wordlessly what I’m looking for. What do I think will change?

The wiser woman scolds me

on the mornings when I do not leave my bed.

She pokes my back when I lie on my side

and my stomach when I roll to my back.

She tugs the covers off my feet

and the pillow from under my head

and I can still hear her voice when I cover my ears.

The wiser woman mocks me,

I know her voice from mine.

I hear her scoff as I say into the phone,

I love you,

and the wiser woman whispers mockingly back to me,

I love you,

and as the wiser woman laughs at me,

I feel the slightest of smiles tug at my lips.

The wiser woman knows better than me,

she never told me this; rather, I found it on my own.

The wiser woman covers my ears

when I open them to the wrong people.

She grabs my face in her hands and turns it to hers,

looking at me with her all-too-familiar eyes

as I lock mine with the wrong ones.

The wiser woman points her finger for my gaze to follow,

showing me colors I cannot see.

Today, she showed me new shades of red,

both darker and brighter than I could ever have imagined.

I push away the wiser woman, but she grows louder each day

and I could swear her voice sounds more and more like mine.