Coping.

She says, "Miracles don't exist."
I say, "Yes they do."
She says, "No they don't,
And you know that's the truth."
"No, miracles exist.
Just look at the past."
"Oh Emily," she says,
"You know that I have.
You think that those miracles
Are really going to last?
They're patient, broken hearts
Simply wearing clever masks.
Miracles don't exist."
I tell her they do.
"Miracles exist,
And he's living proof."
At this she almost softens
As if in sympathy
"Emily, please..
Do you really believe..."
"Yes," I tell her,
Before I can hesitate.
She says, "He's happy right now,
But he's not gonna stay.
You have thoughts and emotion,
A little too much.
And with persistence and color,
You don't have quite enough."
"Maybe he can make up,"
I say quietly
"For the things that I lack
Since he has everything."
"That's the other thing, doll,"
She phrases to me
"He's a little too perfect.
He's out of your league."
"Maybe he's perfect enough to stay,"
More confident now.
"Who are you to say he won't?"
And my voice echoes loud.
She says, "You have no proof!
There is nothing at all
To assure you he'll keep loving you
Instead of letting you fall."
I maintain my posture.
"We're getting off topic.
We were talking about miracles,
I think we should drop this."
"This is perfectly on topic,
And you know that I'm right.
Miracles don't exist,
And I'm telling you why."
"You do not know
Any more than I do.
You hold to your thoughts,
And I'll hold to what's true."
She sighs and looks at me.
"This is for your own good.
I'm not trying to hurt you,
I never would."
"I know," I say,
"You're just confused.
So leave me alone,
This is what I choose."
I take a deep breath.
I don't want to hear her.
So I turn my back
And walk away from the mirror.