#day6of15

Wounds

While I cry myself to sleep once again.

I look up and the clock says 3am.

It's been a while since I've had a proper sleep cycle.

While somedays I sleep by 5 or 6 in the morning,

The other days I don't sleep at all.

Sometimes it's the haunting loneliness that blares up as a wound

Other times it's the thought of people I've lost

Friendships and love forgone, most times it's the fear of missing someone again.

While I delete contacts and mute statuses on social media. I still go back to my gallery to look at pictures of us together.

It feels like bandaids on wounds I only revisit again.

Sometimes I stalk the ex who left me for someone else

Other times it's the once bestfriend I'm sure who doesn't remember I exist.

Telling myself I'm better off without toxic people in life

I hug my little panda doll from when I was 10 years old

And cry myself to sleep, thinking of all the wounds my people gave, all the people I've lost and those who left me behind.

I close my eyes, the cellphone chimes.

It's all a vicious cycle again

The mirror

Tiny little toes, 10 little fingers and she learns to stand.

With that chubby cheek and the diaper, it was more like a duck racing around.

She starts running because, she might fall anytime now, and wants to cover as much as possible.

She turns around and finds this beautiful little kid staring back at her,

Looks up and finds her mother staring at her,

She rushes to hug her mother, but her nose hits the solid screen

The mirror.

She doesn’t realize then, that at one point in life she’ll hate looking into that

The mirror.

High school was supposed to be fun

Crushes and girl gangs were the things shown on those romcoms

She hates those movies now.

While she developed early, her breasts were her biggest enemies

The girls in her class started calling her names, and

She felt guys only liked her for that

Every day she looked into that opaque thing and hated every inch

The extra skin, being fat, and those stretch marks

She hated them all

The Mirror

Being a young lady

She covered every inch she hated with layers and layers of cloths

While her mother told her that she should lose some weight and not eat more

Her grandmother constantly reminded her she would never find someone

Then came the era of being woke

Where you were pretty DESPITE being fat

She looked away from mirrors

The pores on her face, the short hair, and the dry lips

Nothing seemed pretty DESPITE being fat and dark.

The mirror only mouthed what she told

She was never nice to herself

Today, she wakes up, wears the same white shirt that she wears for meetings

Looks up at that mirror and looks into those eyes

Those eyes had known that fair and lovely was not what she seeked

She did not have to feel pretty despite fat and dusky

She was pretty with those curves and dark skin

She wears the khol on her eyes, slides into the shorts

Tucks that strand of hair

And lets out a smile to herself

And to all those years of hatred

She saw those little toes and 10 fingers

And smiled

The mirror.