I found myself
tracing a silhouette
on a condensed mirror

My towel covered all my insecurities
like a curtain draping
the sickness before
in takes the stage
under the spotlight
before it plays the play
that recurs, rewinds
and re-plays in my head
all day


I traced it with my finger
from head to shoulders
"why are they broader?"
My eyes spotted things
in that mirror that no one saw
but me "should this be scary?"

It took me 13 years to
feast my eyes on what I am about to see
The towel falls
and the mirror haunts me
with it's reality,
or my reality through it
distorted, broken and far from perfect

As my fingers slid on that mirror
shaping  concave lines
along my sides
I wanted them to turn to
scalpels to cut off
those handles
who are the resting place for my lover's hands

I see it, I trace it
"why can't it go away"
my eyes started scanning all my weak points
tattooing hate
on my thighs, belly
arms and back

I felt like scraping my temple
with sandpaper sculpting
thinner pillars
thinner walls
disregarding all sense of logic
all sense that one day
it might crumble


I cannot escape this self inflicted burden
I did not ask for, I was susceptible to perfection
Challenged myself to control
and I won
yet
I lost
madly