Duet of Reflections

Who is she?
What will she look like?
Will she be sexy
Will she be stern?

Is this me?
Am I too dressed up?
Will I be dressed up
Too much like her?

Who is she?
What will she act like?
Will she be bitchy
Will she be shy?

Should I believe her?
Tell her my secrets?
If she is family
Should I be blind?

Now
Today
First time in a lifetime
Finally I meet
My mysterious twin

Is this girl
So like me
So different
Really my sister?
Is she a friend?

When we meet
How will I greet her?
Will she embrace me
Will we shake hands?

When we talk
What will we speak of?
Does she have style?
Has she known love?

When we meet
How will it touch me?
Will it be creepy
Will there be a bond?

I’m a geek
Does she watch the same shows?
Does she hate my shows?
Will she hate me?

Now
Today
No more speculation
End of the questions
Proof of the fear

That first fateful meeting
Seconds away now
Heart in my eardrums

The moment is here

I dedicate this poem to Susan and Diane of El Goonish Shive, who seem like mirror-images of each other but haven’t quite met each other yet.

Would I had the skill to set it to music!

Self-indulgent poetry. Please Ignore

They said “Express yourself! With poetry!”
But all I have to say are evil things.
To scream my anger at a righteous world
That knows that I am wrong, and tells me so.

They tell me what I must do, patiently.
And all I hear is vitriol. It stings
As much to know I misinterpret them
As all their actual anger ought to do.

I hear them saying, “Nothing ends your pain,”
When all they really ask are simple steps.
A kind word here — a sharply said “for shame!”
Each as their kindly meant advice directs.

I know you’re not concerned with how I feel.
But silence hurts. It shouldn’t, but it’s real.

In response to Bonekeep

This sonnet contains minor spoilers for the Pathfinder Society Special Ruins of Bonekeep—Level Two: Maze to the Mind Slave. If you don’t plan to play it, read on:

To face this lethal place, we took up arms;
Descended ancient steps in duty's name;
Cleared evil's lairs — but fell to their false charms
And duty done, went on in quest of fame.
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