the skin I wish I hadn’t

The mirror hurts the viewer

only madness corresponds

to the light exposing shame

in the chamber of the private

pierced by keyholes of the other

always gazing, never present

sometimes proud or disappointed

in whatever gazes back

It’s the skin I wish I hadn’t 

pale and privileged, pimple-prone

just a scratch away from bleeding

rendered statuesque by phones

Inside, outside, at the border

ICE and water at the edge

wake up early, but on purpose

just to hide my face from nightmares

I pass checks for my routine

public - private - inbetween

I can’t stare at my mascara

it’s the ugliest I’ve seen

Life is pretty in my dreams

I make up worlds when I’m awake

it’s the body you’re assigned to

it’s a choice you’ll never make