Staring into space,
focusing hard on the lines and ripples in the wood,
tears trickling like clean shards on my cheeks,
avoid the mirror.
Face the glass,
reach out and touchit,
losing my breathe,
a vision before me of this body I hate.
Break the mirror in horrific rage, Take this glass and cut this figure in half,
make the transformation,
become something new.
Carve out beauty... find it, find it.
Create it with a knife,
sculpt the right size, stretch and pull, and bend and make lithe
Constantly drowning, and hiding, and falling deeper into a pool or green glass, and misty eyes brown,
and watching sand fall and disappear into a fine powder,
and staring blankly,
and boiling with rage,
and smashing the glass,
cutting to destroy,
start over....
and if his hands ever touch me, the mucles underneath will flicker with tight motion, and he'll stare into my face, and feel the smoothness of my skin, and smile and I'll see in his eyes he thinks I'm beautiful.
