I feel empty, disassociated... like my body isn't really mine. As if my mind grows thoughts of its own without my permission. My eyes aren't the ones i've known my whole life. My hair seems darker but not in the way that changes over time, in the way that I never noticed it was happening. My skin itches like it was never meant to be there. I scratch it trying to tear it off, waiting for this version of myself that I dont know to leave.

I wake up to hear knocking on glass, at first I thought it was coming from the window but I realized it was coming from the mirror. I glanced at the reflection to see that it wasn't me. I was staring at you in me. It all makes sense.

This person I don't know was crafted by your hands, with bleeding words, tortured touches, empty kisses, and my heart at your feet. I am no longer myself, I am an extension of your being. My body learned the language of your love and it is starved. Desperatley reaching for just an inch more, for my fingertips to find your rough skin, my eyes your cold smile.

I look in the mirror and it is not me I see, I am the result of your wreckage. Bloodied, brusied, broken but I am standing.