Me In Slow Motion
The bra strap drops,
it clings to my shoulder.
Each inhalation makes the fabric vibrate.
My hair drips water on my chest.
It penetrates the skin and within.
Me sitting on the edge of the bath tub,
pondering,
wondering,
wandering.
Another strap let loose.
I unhinge the corset.
My toes touch the tiles like dancing piano keys.
I am short.
The mirror vanishes
the upper half of my body.
The other side is much more real.
She has fierce, piercing eyes with flare.
Out-reach her palm and we are connected.
Goosebumps arise as a breeze hacks in.
The door flings open and shut with the muting sound of oblivion.
Express who I am.
Cuz I know not how to make it happen.
Outside is a battlefield.
The innocent is not spared.
Raw,
raw,
roar,
roar.
Conquer nothing of that strength.
The weak they see in me is nothing but my flesh.
I am weak.
But this weak is not real.
Neither are their strengths.
Sliced every layer of material off me,
one by one by one by one,
until I've got none remain.
I smell crystal clear reservoir in the bathroom.
Copyright © Helen Cheng | Year Posted 2016
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