She took down the drapes today.
The ones that hung over the mirrors,
which are now cracked,
and wishing her hundreds of years of bad luck.

She wanted to see herself.
See herself in the distorted glass,
only able to see
what her mind willed.

She traced the burns on her legs,
left from nights when she stayed up late,
bored and lonely,
when sleep wouldn't come.

She ran her fingers through knotted hair,
hair that hadn't seen a brush
in longer then she had seen
something beautiful.

She touched the tips of her hipbones,
her skin stretched taut against them,
waiting to snap from years
of abuse.

She saw herself mishapen,
ugly,
lonely,
depressed.

When everyone else
knew her
as beautiful.
 
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