Staring Contest

The reflection in the window stares

but she looks just the same

and every day she says my name

but I don't know her

I don't know her

I don't know her

Then I wonder if this hand

in my chest is hers,

and I wonder if

gripping my heart white knuckled

is sure to impress at best

when she lays me down to rest

I thought this was a staring contest

Instead, this is unfair

Does she know how hard

I tried to learn her name

to love her

to love her

to love her beyond the growing pains?

she stares back, begging,

"Try harder."

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