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erratic midweek spirals and other qualms (revisited)
Mira
Mirame softly
Mirame slowly
Pero mirame
See me and only me
Take me in and look at me for what I am
I am drooping eye bags that go past the knee & discoloration & forehead pimples & the raw, torn skin surrounding chewed fingernails & clothes worn for a week, rotting teeth, coffee breath, bleeding gums & shaky hands & leg bounces & random twitches & eye strain clawing at the corneas
I am acid reflux & the last piece of food on a plate, left to go cold & the echoing ring of a broken alarm clock & bleach stains & messages left on read & an unskippable ad & the pile of dishes in the sink that no one wants to attend to
I am roadkill & moldy fruit & brain fog & funny bones & expired milk & cobwebs & dead chrysanthemums
I am titles of poems I’ll never write & I am too much
& too little & not enough & overflowing & and I am empty
I am a mess & I am anything but pleasant
I am not easy to digest, I am not palatable, I am not something to savor
Mira
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In spanish, the word "Mira" means "Look". Though it's a soft introduction to the piece, I wanted to write about feeling uncomfortable and unpleasant in my body. I wanted to put into words how gross and tired I felt in a way that would make sense to people who otherwise wouldn't understand. I wanted people to fully see myself the way I see myself on my bad days.
I still struggle with negative and intrusive thoughts, but I'm trying and doing my best to get better. I love and am proud of you, have a wonderful day!