It hurts to see you

like this,

twisted up in your own mind,

not recognizing yourself

in mirrors,

crying between tiles

and shower drains,

wanting to drown your body

in layers of fabric,

unrecognizable from

anything that could be considered

you.

Wanting to unveil yourself,

but only in bits and pieces,

never letting anyone

see the full picture,

complete the puzzle.

Framed shoulders

and collarbones

and muscles,

hiding anything below

or in between.

Tall boots usually suffice

in making you feel stronger.

Jackets give you

some place

to put your hands.

It hurts to see you

like this;

it hurts

to see you.