I stared at my fragile body in the mirror
the hazardous cracks in the glass
distorted my already convoluted figure
I hated the person staring back at me

My delicate limbs hung low to my sides
like a perishing  dandelion among the weeds
bent over and misshapen
from the heavy weight of grimy shoes

I wanted to be proud of the person staring back at me
I didn't want to hate every fiber of her being
but it was too late

I was suffering from famine
My body wasn't getting the attention
or love it deserved
affection deprived

I couldn't tell if I was the cause of all this
If it was my fault I was looking at a burnt out copy of myself
I couldn't tell if you were the reason I was like this
If these scars were the remnants of you and your venomous touches
I couldn't tell

At this point
it was all a blame game
I could blame you for every bruised rib
every bloodshot eye
every swollen lip
every raspy time I said I love you

but I would still be stuck with these scars
I could blame myself
convince myself it was all my fault
and I deserved whatever feelings you were giving me

love wasn't all that complicated
but I still ended up in front of cracked mirror
staring at a figure I couldn't even recognize