She said, “I’m going to be a new person.”
So she dyed her hair grey, and she painted her lips violet.
She put her sweaters and jeans away, and bought dresses —
She pierced her eyes and her eyebrow and her upper lip,
just on one side.
She threw away her flats and bought heals, a whole closet’s worth;
If she wore them all at once, she would be taller again by half
She layered the makeup on, one brush after another, one color after another —
another shade, another shadow, another contour,
until, in the mirror, she barely looked like herself.
She was a different color entirely. She looked fake, plastic even
But in the end, none of it worked, because
after all
she was still herself.
Daydreams 