I haven’t seen you in many years, but now it seems you’re back. I made the switch from contacts just last week.
Like when women cut their hair at fifty or men prefer Whole Foods, glasses are a comfort fit for age.
The last time we were together I was eleven. Jennifer S. threw you against a chalkboard before beating me up after math.
I got contacts and boys saw me. I got bangs and went to homecoming.
After years of makeup and tight-fitting spandex, I forgot how I love the way you feel.
Object Relations 