Ode to the Women I Am

Some nights I don blonde hair,
 the next I will mask as another.
 This time I might be so charming
 or a me I have yet to uncover.

In the morning, I’ll be someone new:
 a better, more sensible me.
 She will dress smarter and speak
 much more eloquently.

She’ll not forget the woman
 she was the night before –
 remembers her light with fondness,
 envies her playfulness in amour.

They locked eyes for an moment
 in that dimly-lit bathroom mirror.
 Only for an instant, that smudged ghost
 became just a little bit clearer.

But each time I shut my eyelids,
 I’m certain I must shapeshift.
 I haven’t been myself in years;
 the closest I’ve come is this.

Even the woman you see now
 may be different come the end of the day.
 Do you remember the person you met?
 The me you knew has faded away.

20, student and writer (when the guilt becomes overwhelming)
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