Austen

14

Frances/Jane’s daughter (desires) (15)

one glance in the mirror feels
like a tidal wave of pain.
the lines of my shape become
unclear, as welling tears blur my vision.

I try hard not to look
as I pass windows on the city streets.
I look at the floor instead of the lengthy mirrors
at the end of long corridors.

sometimes, I wish I could simply see myself in the eyes of somebody else.
I wish I could step out of my awkward, unpleasant body,
I wish I felt comfortable in my own skin.

day-to-day life is not a challenge,
but living a life withdrawn and bashful
is not what I desire.
I desire beauty. I desire poise.