I knew you in the mirror

A little quirk,

A crooked brushstroke,

A child with a mean stepsister

 

For you, I parted my hair the other way

For you, I tilted my chin toward the ground

 

You were a punishment from the Gods,

The gouged eyes of Oedipus,

A lightning scar from the Monolid-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named

 

Enemy of the rightful heir,

I kept you hidden until he saw you,

My Asianness turned whiteness,

The outer covering of a banana,

 

He, a boy that I did not care about,

He, a boy who said things like “dude” and “bro”

But also things like:

 

“Have you considered eyelid surgery?”

and

“You look a lot better with glasses.”

No –

“You move up two whole points on the scale with glasses.”

Four to Six.

Because then it’s not so noticeable.

 

It, being you, double eyelid.

 

I thought about you when this “dude bro” unrolled himself

and stuck his lonely friend inside me.

 

When we kissed,

Our teeth knocking against each other,

When we kissed,

My dress catching on the men’s bathroom,

When we kissed,

I was petrified

he would open his eyes

And find you instead of me

 

This is a bad idea, he said.

And flipped me over on the garbage can

 

The next morning,

My Amazon cart was rolls of eyelid tape

The next morning,

My search history was Korean surgeons – no insurance accepted

The next morning

He said, this was a bad idea.

 

One night later, he said this is a bad idea.

One week later, he said this is a bad idea.

He said, you’re not my type

He said, let’s just be friends

He said, this can never happen again,

 

And I hoped,

Double Eyelid,

That he was talking about you