Beneath the surface of skin
That she finds scarred and neglected,
Saggy in all the wrong places,
And overall in the deepest disrepair

Is a woman who has been defeated into conformation her whole life.
Conditioned to believe that her best is not good enough.

That she will never be good enough.

It is obvious she has not slept in some time
When she blankly stares at me with dark eyes
And even darker circles surrounding them
~if that is even possible~

Because while the bags under her eyes are unsightly,
They indicate how much she's been able to accomplish in recent weeks
~without the need for sleep~

But she knows she must catch up on rest soon

Before the walls start calling out to her
~They are enclosing and widening, all at once~
And she learns how many tiles make up her kitchen floor
~one-thousand, two-hundred and ninety-six~
And the popcorn ceiling of her bedroom collapses all around her
~but only in her head~

She brushes a strand of long, blonde hair from her face with one small, unmanicured hand

She dyed it last week
She insists that her natural brunette color is the worst version of her
~timid, reserved~
And that she must leave her behind

At least, for now.

She shakes her head
Whispering to her soul
~quietly, but with such force I stop to listen~

That this fear she grapples with will not torture her mind rent free any longer.

But reality has left her
And everything is surreal

She is weightless
Unburdened by the heaviness of the truth

She breathes in love
And exhales rejection

Remembering that no one will love her
With the demons that plague her head

She's too focused on the pain right now to notice
That I did not leave
That I will never just walk away
~no matter how much she pushes~

Silently, though, I wonder if she will survive this time

For it is agonizing to watch her
Abandon herself

But my God, is she beautiful
When the moon touches her eyes
And I see a slight glimmer

Of myself
Deep inside




© krystlereisler