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Sitting next to you, in silence,
I watch your reflection in the mirror
admiring your long, brown-tinted locks
accessorized with small, white seashells.

As you primp, I am intrigued.
Your bronze-colored vanity
is neatly arranged and centered
in your incense and candle-filled room.

The smell of musk-scented oils
aggravates my nose –
potent and concentrated.
And like usual, we begin
our song and dance:

I want to wear red polish.
You say it’s seductive.
I opt for black.
You say it’s demonic.
You suggest nude.
So I wear nothing.

Young and naïve, maybe
but wise enough to know
that the resiliency of our relationship
is faltering. So I continue
to look for ways to bridge the gap.