Fifty candles on a half-cut cake Mascara in the bathroom sink Practicing a name I always knew Till my own voice made me blink Old photos in a cardboard box Button-ups and borrowed ties I smile and somehow disappear In my very own disguise I blame myself For every year I stayed a ghost For every quiet little "maybe" I buried deeper than I know I blame myself For every mirror that I dodged For every time I said "I'm fine" And walked away in someone else's body There's a summer dress still on the rack I saw it first in ninety-five Counted coins and counted reasons Why I couldn't stay alive I called it duty Called it fear Called it "this is just the way" Signed my name with shaky letters Then put my handwriting away I blame myself For every year I stayed a ghost For every quiet little "maybe" I buried deeper than I know I blame myself For every mirror that I dodged For every time I said "I'm fine" And walked away in someone else's body But then I see a girl of fifteen On a bus in the blue-lit dawn Headphones Chipped nail polish Looking like she just belongs And I ache for what I never had And I ache for what I chose Till I feel that tiny kindness Of the woman in my clothes I blame myself Then I remember who taught me shame The hand that pushed the door shut And the mouths that said my name So I forgive myself For every mirror that I missed For every late and trembling hour I still arrived like this I light one more crooked candle I lost so much to being frightened But I won't lose today again
