Carbon Copy

Sing me a song, take me to where I belong

Wipe me down with tears to wipe away that ol’ frown

Why do you look at me? You know I don’t like when you look at me.

Sing me a song, take me to where I belong.

I have watched them come and go. Men of all types and with different volumes of avaricious toxicity have walked past me and into her bedroom. For a moment I thought, “Hm, maybe he’s the one?”, only to have such an inquiry erased once another guy replaced him the following week.

I never hurt you. I never cheated or lied to you. In fact, I have been as clear and concise as I could have possibly been! So, why then, must you ignore me?

Look at her hair, oh I love to look at her hair.

So gracefully falling, falling on the table before me.

Every snip and rip breaks my heart.

Why do you break my heart?

Today has been one of the few days in a long time where you have finally stood in front of me and actually asked for my opinion.

“Should I cut it? Terrance said he’d liked me better with shorter hair, but I don’t know...”

“Well, I actually love your hair just the way it is- "

“Ah, forget it! It will grow back eventually. Oh, and I also bought a couple boxes of this fiery red hair dye that he said would really bring out the hazel specks in my eyes!”

So, I had no choice but to sit back and watch you transform into someone that I know you are not. The beautiful, thick curls piled up at your feet as you just snipped and colored every strand of hair you could get your hands on.

Dark brown to red. The epitome of heartbreak.

In fact, I am not sure which was crueler to behold, you ruining your luscious locks for a style that you don’t even like or being forced to watch you flood the bathroom with your tears as you wept in agonizing sorrow. Terrance did not come back, not for the red and surely not for your love.

“I never liked my reflection, anyway.”, I barely heard you murmur in a low whisper.

Look at my eyes. Just look at my eyes once, love.

Do you see any joy? Any happiness?

I gain nothing from watching you this way.

Why won’t you let me show how much I love you?

“You look absolutely perfect to me.”, I said as audibly as I could in hopes of reaching your tender ears, but it fell on vain attempts. The sound of your screaming and the shattering of both your heart and glass plates drowned out my comforting voice. I was too afraid to leave the bathroom, so I stayed where I was and just listened to the seemingly endless quarrels between you and your ninth “Mr. Right”.

Then, you stormed in and slammed the door behind you, startling me as I was lost in my thoughts trying to remember what Mr. Right-Number-Nine’s name was, until I saw your face.

Ever since Terrance ruined you a year ago, I have always hated every shade of red, but now I hate the colors black and purple, too. Your well-shaped and full lips were swollen and darkly bloodied, matching the faded crimson streaks in your hair.

The hazel specks in your eyes that I loved long before anyone else nearly glistened in ironic beauty as purple swellings danced across your mahogany skin.  

You finally looked up at me after hanging your head down in shame. I eyeballed you closely as I observed your expression go from initial shock, to terror, and then finally to rage.

Though you yourself have just been pummeled relentlessly for the sake of “love”, you lash out at me instead. You struck me repeatedly and mercilessly, almost as if you had been reenacting your own battering, even though I had not done anything. It was painful, and I felt something inside me fracture as you threw punch after punch, but I let it happen because I loved you too much to retaliate.

How can we come back from this?

We’ve both been hurt. But I am not hurt anymore.

Maybe you just need some time,

but I never thought that you would leave me.

You threw me out like trash that following weekend. You just dumped me like unwanted garbage that sits on the side of the road. I assured myself saying, "Surely she is just upset. Surely, she will come back… Surely, right?”

But she was done with me the moment she unhinged me from her wall. I remember seeing the large garbage truck coming up from the end of the road and realizing that this was it. Its large claw that grabbed every piece of material within its arm’s reach was my ultimate destiny that I knew I could not escape.

It eventually accelerates and stops right in front me, but instead picks up the bin next to me as a way to satirize my inevitable end. I watched as the bin dumped its trash into the crushing gates of the truck and was gently put back down onto the concrete curb.

The claw finally grabs me, but its tight grip only crushes the already-shattered glass that I once used to reflect my beloved. It lifts me high into the sky, allowing the sunlight to dazzle upon me in all its glory, and I catch sight of my beloved one last time. She’s running out onto the curb, and for a moment I think, “I knew my beloved will save me!”, but I stared hopelessly as yet another man is the one she wraps her arms around as he gets out of his car.

If only you had known…

that I have loved you more than anything.

Then I gazed into the man’s car which had a gleaming rear-view mirror, and for the first time in forever, I saw myself. Cracked and stained beyond repair, my mind leads me to an apprehending realization. You see, it had always been my duty to reflect my beloved’s image whenever she was getting ready or just looking at herself in the mirror. At first, I could never understand why she hated and ignored me, but now I do.

I kept staring into the fancy, enchanting mirror that reminded me of what I used to be, and then suddenly, I spoke the words I had always disagreed with her saying to herself.

“I hate my reflection.”