When I meet myself on the other side of the mirror, I see short mint bangs cut with a blunt knife, eyelids too heavy to resist gravity,
lifeless eyes washed in tears and blood and shaking lips that never deserve to be loved.
As I run my hand through my jaw and entire face, I can feel my complexion glitch into the many things I have become.
They throw a feast in my head that I’m forced to attend, and it will never stop.
I’m suddenly the little girl I wanted to shelter in my heart, never leaving her side, always there to watch the world burn down with her.
I’m suddenly the man who poppet-mastered my each and every limb to find comfort in lust,
the fatherly figure who made me watch the world as it perfectly grew in black and blue eyes and shaky legs.
I’m suddenly the boy who swallowed the key to the door he came from and decided to find strength in his own trembling hands.
And I’m also the grown up girl that never managed to connect the dots to inner peace, always smelling the flames of hell in her. My pores secrete the venom I was injected since childhood.
I should never have the chance to be touched and felt like I am when I’m suddenly asleep on his chest, barely breathing, slowly but never surely dying.
Yet he runs his hand through my hair like singing a lullaby to a toddler, his hand never seems to be affected my venomous skin and I helplessly rest my head on his chest,
giving in to his restful heartbeat, a song I can barely listen within me.
Our simultaneous breaths seem to be happening as one while his chest gently moves up and down and I feel like a newborn being put to sleep for the first time after many hours of crying and restlessness.
I can feel his eyes on me, but they’re never piercing, they never seem to need something that I have.
Instead their serenity washes over my face, like an angelic veil that I had it torn by the claws I have survived.
I don’t deserve his chests warmth, nor the arms around my body, nor the tender treatment my lips get, nor the caress my soul Is feeling.
But I guess I’ll never be able to escape from the cage of his arms, because their persistence is something more than my body can take, and for the first time, I’d love to live with that.