I hope all You see
Are my hazel eyes—magnetic, alive—
Not the emptiness
They ache to hide.
I hope all You see
Is my bleach blonde hair,
Not the dark roots growing in, exposing
What I’m so desperate to erase.
I hope all You see
Is my soft, freshly shaven skin,
Lotioned daily, head to toe, just to feel clean,
Not the scars that make me feel anything but.
I hope You don’t see what I see,
Because you might hate me
As deeply
As I hate myself.