The Judge

I used to be
The one you held at night
We’d breathe in deep
Exhale to still and quiet
You’d wake, I peak
Wait for your restless feet to start tiptoeing
Towards the bathroom sink

I used to know
The way you’d say hello
Peck on my check, “Good morning my dear sweet-“

In the mirror I’m thin
Stripped of oxygen
What will be underneath
If I try to shed this skin?
I’m fixing what’s bent out of shape

And I’ll keep it in the back where I know it’s safe
But what’s a loss if nothing’s gained?
And who am I to judge when a line’s not straight?
Who am I to judge?

I strip the sheets
Clean out the cabinets
Sweep underneath the places we would sit
What’s left to fix?
In all this empty space, your fingerprints keep getting in my way

In the mirror I’m thin
Stripped of oxygen
What will be underneath
If I try to shed this skin
I’m fixing what’s bent out of shape

And I’ll keep it in the back where I know it’s safe
But what’s a loss if nothing’s gained?
And who am I to judge when a line’s not straight?
Who am I to judge?