doctor’s chair

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