you look like the aftermath of smudged letters and blurry words
after your tears are done smearing the ink into illegible cryptics
and after the ink is done twisting itself into something ugly.
you look like the tally marks on your wrist
after you've hidden them behind long sleeves
and they still bleed.
you look like you've been wearing an mask for far too long
and after you refused to let the sunlight in,
fed the flowers in your eyes too many salty tears,
they started to wilt—
dandelions, roses, tulips, lilies, forget-me-nots—
you just let them all die.
you look like you given up, closed down
tucked whatever was left of your flower bed somewhere dark
so you could pluck their wilting petals, watch them deteriorate.
you look like too many empty bottles
after you've lost yourself
and after the ***** is strong enough to wash away you
and bring something else.
you look familiar—like I've seen you before—
though you're not you.
you look like a vague face,
someone else and I know that person.
you look like that person
you look like her
you look like *me
