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Submitted on
November 4, 2013
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my mirror shows me
a woman with the face of a daughter,
with a body tainted by years
of scars and starvation,
and ruined by a set of hands
the woman can hardly remember.

it does not show,
silver lake,
smooth silk,
myself to myself.
there are wide blue eyes
and bags of gold
hanging off the chest,
and i know this is me
but it is not my soul-

my soul
has wandered
to a place where it
feels safe.
my body,
a burden of destruction,
a simmering funeral pyre,
is not that place.
10.16.13
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:iconformaniac:
formaniac Nov 5, 2013  Student Writer

silver lake,
smooth silk

 

beautiful. reminds me of ectoplasm as well as soul. good work dear~

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:iconshaqwanni:
Age can hold a lot of beauty, though.

Regardless: I find this a remarkable piece of poetry.
Simple put, but really meaningful.
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:iconpoetries:
"with a body tainted by years
of scars and starvation"

Your body isn't tainted. It is beautiful.
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