everything is white and grey
bleached to be sterile
no clock on the wall
no concept of time
I sit on your chair
stretched out leather
covered in crisp paper
the same material as my dress
my dress
crinkled and clean
fragile as a bird
easily torn
back exposed
nude
suddenly I’m twelve again
and he sees me here
in my black leggings
with the sheer rainbow cutouts
running up the side
sitting on the same
doctors’ chair
as he sits beside
in his pristine white coat
running his hand
up and down my thigh
but he wasn’t even
the worst one
there were many doctors
and many appointments
in different varieties
of white sterile rooms
I’m ten again
getting the first diagnosis
of a lifetime
I’m fifteen again
sitting beside a woman
in a white coat
teaching me how
to inject myself
in the same thigh
he touched
I’m thirteen again
I haven’t showered
in months
it makes my skin fall off
in shreds
like bits off an eraser
I’m fourteen again
at a doctor for talking
meant to erase the hurt
of every doctor
before herself
I’m sixteen
mama sees me
crying
on the kitchen floor
she says sorry
I don’t want her to hurt
she has to deal with enough
she shouldn’t have to deal
with me
she did nothing wrong
I’m crying
because tomorrow
I have to wear
that stupid fucking
white paper dress
all over again