Recognizing herself
in the mirror
seemed to be a distant
breathe of life
for it only showed her
what the world saw of her
a plain canvas of silent stares,
of hazy rushed and blurred hours,
of small conversations
that held no meaning,
of apologies uttered in haste,
of moments missed to a waste.

They saw what they wanted to
and not what they had to
blinding the truth behind
a curtain of oblivion;
a curtain so thick
it was starting to make
her believe otherwise.

They saw a shy little girl
who was too afraid
to touch the sky,
but no one knew
that she had built
up a whole new world
inside herself,
and it was anything
but small.

And they had no clue
about who she was
when she was alone
with bursts of galaxies
swirling in her mind.

And they didn't notice
the stars in her eyes
because they were
too busy looking
out for the sun
in the night sky.

And her heart,
a garden of love,
waiting for the day,
someone would
notice the flowers
that craved affection.

And her soul,
the plethora
of endless
universes
that was
yet to be
found.

That was all her
true reflection.