I found myself standing in the produce section
looking into the mirrors behind the vegetables.
                                                                        
Why's there a mirror here in the first place?
I lean in so close that my breath fogs the mirror,
                                                                                          
I bite my lip to keep myself here, in the store.
I trace a heart in the fog with my pinky.

Slowly I glide my pinky across it, slash.
It shall no longer beat nor ache for something it can never have.

Maybe a young girl will come grab some broccoli for her mother,
And see the heart. I hope she takes it as a forewarning.

When I was nine years old
my best friend died.
I didn't attend the funeral,
my mother did instead.
I cried because that's what your supposed to do.
Laying in the center of the room,
Labored breathing, clenched fist.

When I was thirteen years old
my best friend gave up on me.
She dismissed me like yesterdays news.
Sadness perched on my shoulder,
Lurked in every corner
of every room.
Stayed with me every night.
Wishing for tears but they disobliged.

I found comfort in the darkness,
faint music in the background.
No more Saturday nights creeping out,
only being crept on.
The blade's beginning  to whine.
Demons, demons come and play.
Red River Flood all over again.

There's a thunderstorm inside me
It's beating my inside
Pounding on the walls
Demanding to be set free
Every now and again I let a little out
Only at night when everyone's sleeping
I just lie there and release what I can in silence
Later on I feel drained and I only have one want
to be held
By my mother
By my "father"
By someone who loves me
Really loves me.

i stand with my towel wrapped around my body
water droplets clinging to my skin
fresh out of the shower I examine my face in the mirror
My eyebrows look a uneven
My nose looks to big for my face
My lips look larger than usual
reminds me of grade school
how all the boys pointed out that my lips
weren't like the other girls
                            
i drop my towel and bring my hand to my neck
trace my collarbone
my hand drops to my stomach
it rest there, pinches the excess skin
Tssk,Tssk that'll have to go
my hand sweeps across my thighs
The gap is to small
                                                                     i cannot be this young girl with wild hair and wild eyes

I think if I reach a little further I might be able to grasp your last thought.
The last thing that slipped into your mind.
What brought you to the ledge.
Was it that she didn't want you?
Did you stand there with the pills in your hand screaming and crying,
                        L o v e  me!
                                             L o v e me!
She couldn't love you though, there was nothing left in her to love with.
Now she sits in the river giving herself up.
I know what her last thought is.
She's just so tired,
let her be, let her be.
As she cries out to no one
                         L o v e me!
                                              L o v e me!
She floats on down the river
Her last thought is only to love him enough this time.

I want to tell you a million things.
A million stories,
But I am afraid.
Afraid once I start I won't stop.
Afraid you won't care.
Afraid that when I look into those brown eyes I'll see
only see my reflection and nothing more.
Afraid that when you hear all the
bad, that when I reach for you,
as I often do, you will turn away.
As they often do.