If Narcissus had a daughter
She wouldn't look anything like his reflection
So he would fall out of love with her.
If her body was not that of the flower which he became
Thin, wispy, conventional
He would spit her out of his venomous mouth
She would become a drop in a bucket
Forget how to love herself
And expect someone to do it better
She will look into the eyes of her lover
See her father and approve
Because she does not know how to love differently
He will not teach her to accept herself
But rather push her into the pond
So he can be above her
Watch carefully, darling
Trauma is the only thing you ever knew
Why would you expect anything else?
When I watched my father become a flower
Wilted over the water
I wondered if he had always been that way
I wanted to rip the eggshells out of my imperfect feet
As I crushed them and cut myself
Instead of avoiding them altogether
For far too long
They have become a part of me
So damaged and frail
No wonder I hold them close to my chest.
My heart is no longer an eggshell
It is a diamond
Not easily cracked again
But I still love the poison of your lips
The way your hand causes tremors through my skin
As I break the surface of the water
Earthquake, dear
You give me earthquakes
After all,
If all I know is trauma
How could I expect anything else?