I suckled on fire
till the space between my ribs glowed inferno
I wrapped my skeleton in borrowed skin
and grew foreign to myself
I stuffed my razorblades into pockets
that hardly ripped, barely bled
I bore people on my back through the mud
with my own lips caked in mire
I monitored my reflection in every shiny surface
and tumbled down a mirrored rabbit hole
and when I showed you how warm,
how thin, how agreeable, how giving,
how pretty I had become—
you flinched in horror, said
not like this
not like this