Kinsey Peterson

Cutting Away My Face

It\'s there

I know it is

Somewhere between sharpened, bloody shards

Lies my face

 

That wretched thing

misshapen

A grotesque piece of art depicting the regrets of humanity

And I can not cut it off

 

Trust me I’ve tried

There are still healing wounds that border my features

Cuts in brows and lips

Yet I somehow still recognize the reflection

 

This broken glass

Shattered mirror

it‘s laughing at me

It’s laughing at my defeat when I am supposed to be beautiful

 

I’m supposed to have the shapen brows

I\'m supposed to have full lips the color of flowers

Straight, glittering white teeth

Bright, audacious blue eyes

No brown and purple resting in the creases of my sleepless nights

 

Yet here I am

At 3 in the goddamn morning being ridiculed by a mirror

A broken, ancient thing that still reflects morning light

It’s breathtaking

 

I know it’s there

My face

I can see it within the bruised and bloody reflection that I see

That isn’t me

It can’t be

 

I’ve lost the weight

I’ve colored my face with reds and blues

How dare that thing in the mirror claim to be my face?

I might not have cut it off but I did change it

 

Slice by slice

Motion by motion

Bandage by bandage

I changed it

 

How am I still this homely?

I am supposed to be beautiful

I am supposed to be ethereal

 

Why am I still here?

I have school in the morning

I need to clean the glass

I need to wipe the blood from my fingertips

 

I need to go.