A wound I mistook for healed
opened itself last night.
I slipped and spiraled
in my skin,
and I remembered what it was like
to be fourteen again,
and miserable with every glance
in the mirror.
—
Oh teenage girl,
I wish I could love you
into healing.
I long to soothe you
into breathing.
for now,
I keep you shut
in the back of a dusty drawer.
One day,
I‘ll learn to love you.