The Stranger in the Mirror

I take my clothes with me into the bathroom

so I can dress before seeing myself in the mirror

before looking at my breasts that weren’t good enough

I then ask myself, good enough for who?

At what point did I lose my opinion about my own body

and at that point did I lose ownership of my skin too

 

If I drop the towel to the floor and catch sight of my image

I place my hands on my breasts and I wonder

perhaps they aren’t too small

and only your hands too big

 

I run a finger beneath them,

ask myself, is this where the knife will cut

and then question my own eyes

is this really what you want?

What of you will it make better?

when did you lose sight of who you wanted to be

 

What of the women before you?

of all the writers who caused your chest to swell with pride

when they’re words told you,

you are good enough as you

 

What of the future?

should you become what they are now

to another

What will you tell the girl, that you see as beautiful

that you see is once as you were

 

How will you tell her

you are good enough as you

when you never felt good enough for anyone

and willingly changed to fit a perception of beauty

you never even believed to be true

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