"Tremors gone"
Jami A 

The viridian dye is thick
Sliding over her thin fingers
Sitting amorphously in a rough palm

She slides it through burnet tresses
Hesitating
Forever hesitating

Lovely black-brown strands
burn violet in the fluorescent lights

Virescent -perhaps sage?- eyes peer nervously
Hidden behind lop-sided spectacles
And unkempt bangs

Teeth tease at chapped lips
A light tremor shaking her shrinking form

Who will she be?
Who does she want to be?

Not who she is now
That's her only definite

She slathers the goop onto plaited hair
Tremors gone
Determination strengthening wasting flesh

A call to the optometrist
Numerous visits to the city thrift shops

Long sleeves cover amaranthine scars
Terracotta curls get tucked nervously behind
ears glittering with hoops and studs

A confident, optimistic smile hides
suicidal tendencies and poisonous insecurities

And she hopes
She hopes, so deeply

That change soaks through skin
Invading muscle
Traversing bone
Wrapping around the little broken thing
she called a soul

"I want to be someone that isn't me."

the saddest wish
of a tragic damsel
that has always been distressed

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