I avoid mirrors at all costs.
I cannot stand the sight of her, the way she looks. Those ghastly hips and foul teeth, sunken lids with irises the color of contaminated mold.
She writhes and speaks such nonsensical things, I do not understand her. She does not understand her.
A twenty five year old placenta, burnished with weeks of ragged scars. Her years showing back on plain thighs, a stretched stomach.
She eyes her scars while a man that guards his sweet sex like a pearl binds her.
She is stubbornly hanging on, begging to be let go to ears that fall deaf at cries.
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