it feels like an old dress
that just feels wrong.
the arms hang loose, like droplets
dangling on the edge.
the stomach is too tight, tugging
at the forbidden places and threatening
to tear.
the legs. gawky. awkward. like
broken puppets trying to be real.
clunk. the feet are bricks. or ice cubes.
tripping. sliding. or both.
this skin is all hers, but it doesn't feel right.
she turns and shifts, hoping it will fit into place.
she scratches and bites, thinking it just needs adjusting.
'i want to feel silk and butterflies', she whispers,
in her skin that just feels wrong