Three New Pieces

To be read together.

Everything is pretty on the outside,
where it’s not broken, where it’s clean and the
skin you wear is shatter proof against knives that
sometimes people are provoked to say
by grain, grain, grains, hurt you, hurt me
we hurt each other because we love each other, someone said

Here you claw, here I claw, you call and I turn my face.
Slowly, my eye trails something thick like when you have every reason to love someone except

I am standing quiet and still like a girl in trouble
But it’s not in my body, my body is rigid and thin and my fingers hang by my sides, slightly curled, loose.
You are a bellowing wind and my hair is the only part disturbed, blowing back.
There is a mirror between us.
You can’t see yourself in the mirror, but I can see through the mirror. I can see you.
Your body grows large and overshadows my thin, girlish dress and I don’t even look up at you.
I feel rage, but it feels calm.
It feels like nothing, which is what you are (that’s a lie).
What (how) did we become?


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