I look in the window.

I see my reflection.

I see you.

I see beauty.

I see your dark brown hair.

I see the natural highlights in it.

I see your eyes.

The perfect dark brown.

I see his eyes, too.

Hazel.

I have both of your eyes.

Rings.

I see a tear fall from the corner of my eye.

Your eye.

Our eye.

I see the pain.

I see it written across my face.

I see your face.

Your beauty.

I look at my reflection.

I look into my eyes,

the perfect blend

of yours

and his.

I stare at the pain,

the tears falling from the corners.

I look past that,

and I see you.

I see you sitting there.

Passed out.

Pills all around you.

Oh, mama.

Don't you understand?

I'm your spitting image.

Suicidal tendencies and all.

It's so silly.

The beauty you gave me.

I see it,

but I fucking hate it.

I hate what you gave me.

Suicide runs in our family, mama.

I miss you.

Thank you,

for passing me this beauty.

The beauty I hate.