to smell my own perfume only makes me sad.
this familiarity, precious to few,
this line of sight, so fit to breathe
by me, reminiscent of a hold i've never had.
the bathtub fills and i melt in.
i can't stay strong. i can't stay mad.
perhaps my lips are thicker now,
my hips stick out like guppy fins.
my pink thighs half-float;
i would rather not please you. i am plain
and salt-swollen. i am myself again
and there is no choice but to accept.
i am the crown beauty of the bath,
belly-up, freckle-skinned and fat.
every time i close my eyes i glimpse the end.
my puffy face-i wash- let the glitter down the drain.
i make my own standards, i make my own rain.
there is no longer a necessity to pretend.
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