She asked me to step beyond the line I'd etched in the mirror.
She held her breath as I tripped over my dead feet.
She reached out her hand as I fell into the cracks.
Fingers brushed mine as I spun out of control.
She asked me to be more than the reflection of who I was.
She held me accountable to the rhythm of life
She reached into the darkness, unafraid of what lurked in the cracks.
Fingers brushed my tears as I cried.
For the seven years of bad luck to turn around.
For the cracks to fill.
For my feet to find their way home.
For the reflection to be true.
She asked and I attempt to answer,
stuttering and flinching.
More afraid than ever before
that I am not what I seem
nor what she believes me to be.