Sliver Lining

With a sigh,

she pulls herself to her tiled chamber.

Switch,

she turns to face her twin.

Tilting her head side to side,

she reaches up,

to run her fingertips along

the bumps and dips

on her forehead

and around her eyes.

But to her

her ridges rub like sandpaper,

She chews her tongue.

She mistakes the gray streaks

in her hair

for dirt,

her body like a rose

that discolors

and decays.

She hopes to wash away

her age in the shower.

Yet as she sat naked

on her bed

curling her arms around

her legs in a hug,

with her wet hair

caressing her back,

she felt like a siren

bathed in moonlight—

old enough,

to have mastered the art

of luring men to sea.