from the girl in the mirror

the red ribbons round your arms don’t look so pretty

once they pool in your palms and drip to the floor.

you look at me and

your hate distorts my image in tears,

it grates on my lungs with every breath.

it locks me in the mirror with a burning gaze

that traces the scarlet trail up my wrist,

until your diamond-hard eyes meet mine, edges and all,

and if looks could kill -

no,

if looks could mutilate,

if looks strip my bones, split my skull,

if looks could remold flesh and brain,

i might be made into someone you could love.

i’m sorry i could not be enough

on my own.