am i not the prettiest girl you've ever seen; say it again, let your naivety gild my cage

he reaches through the mirror and cradles my face tenderer than any lover, than any mother, than any god. brushes the tears and fallen lashes off the crests of my cheeks.

i reach through the mirror and strangle him half to death to shut him up-

stuff my fingers into my throat so i can finish throwing the rest of him up into the sink. rinse my mouth out. the mirror’s just a mirror and behind it i see nothing. pretty doll. pretty angel. mother can love porcelain. mother can love glass.

i go through the motions. go through the rest of the day empty. it’s easier to let everybody crawl inside when i’m already hollow- when i’m nobody, anyone can make me somebody. animate me. whatever you’d like. pull my strings and watch me ring. she can dance! she can sing! she can smile like a real girl can! she can curl up next to you in bed like a real girl can! look at me go, look at your star, your little ballet dancer, mother, maker, sun. i’m burning. i’m burning. look at me go.

i shave under my arms. it takes about 10 minutes to be done with it. to wash my hands clean of it. it takes about 10 years to wash my hands of my sin. still, there’s blood crusted under my nails, in the ridges and divots of my bitten cuticles. i grow them out long and paint them petal-pink. it’s a color i loved for its delicacy, its strength. now i'm defanged and muzzled, and it is too.

you can look at me, if you want. you can touch me, if you want. my skin is smooth. it won’t matter at all. all of me is sluicing down the pipes. all of me is in a sewer somewhere, with the rest of the shit and vermin and stench. wastewater and unwanted parasites.