Seventeen.

I barely dare to say it out loud
Just in case it might be true.
Have you ever looked into a mirror
And not been sure that face was you?
In any case it's hideous
But really what is a face?
Just some bone laced together
And covered with skin;
It can't begin to express the complexity
Of the person it hides within
But my face is growing older
And my eyes just aren't the same
As they were when I was six years young
And had never been caressed by pain.
Before my brow had felt the weight of gravity
Drag it down to shadow two lonely worlds,
Before life had complexity.
Back when I was innocent, naive.
Just a little girl.

Seventeen.

The word sticks to the back
Of my throat in tatters:
A feeling that's not remotely like excitement
But more like the way
That the darkness tastes
In the moment when light scatters
Or how it feels when a lie
You've believed in shatters
And a sliver of the hurt
Gets stuck inside you
Bleeding a bit before petrifying
Into a memory you can't escape
No matter how hard you pry