when i was 10
Sometimes
i wonder if my mirror is broken
and i should send it back to Ikea,
the store for the lost.
Whenever i catch a glimpse
of my skin
my body grows cold
and my brain gets
c l o u d y
this is not the girl i remember
the girl who said she'd never wear makeup because
"all girls are beautiful without makeup"
and
"makeup covers your beauty"
the girl who said she'd never swear
the girl who said she could love.
The long fake lashes, thick and sometimes goopy eyeliner, the heavy foundation,
all of it sits there on my face as if a clown had applied it
well, that clown is me
the hair that's been through many shades
and endured hours of agony
sits like a rats nest atop my head
bumpy, irregular bone structure with a double chin, those tired eyes that were once called gorgeous
who knew everything could change so fast,
especially your view of yourself