Her

There she is, a complete mess, 
Her head a tangle of thick tousled

 tresses and thoughts. 

She smiles through the pain, 

Hiding herself from her heart,

Her lips smile but I can see through her eyes

That she is dying inside. 

I think and think again what might be going 

In that big fuzzy head of hers, 

As I sit beside her, I look at her

The way a child looks at a puzzle, 

I try to put it  together but in vain

I still dont have all the pieces 

God knows what goes on in that messed up brain. 
Her laugh though, is as innocent as a kid playing under the summer sun. 

She grins widely at me as I stand there perplexed 

Comprehending the hidden meaning, the crypt, those deep wrinkles on the her cheek mean

She shakes her head, in sympathy, as if I were a cripple. 

Blind to the elephant in the room. 
I follow her, her mind, her heart, 

Trying to trace all  threads to a thought

Alas! They are intertwined and everything falls apart, 

I finally find the idea which i had furiously fought. 
She was not a puzzle to be solved, 

Not a problem to be fixed

She was like salt waiting to be dissolved, 

I watch her bewitched. 
Who is she, you ask? 

She is you and me, 

The girl on the other side of the mirror, 

The woman on the edge of the cliff. 

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