There’s not much
That I haven’t said-
Haven’t resorted to
Tried to lie with.
You can be astonished
Or surprised.
I, personally, just wouldn’t waste the time.

But then,
I’ve had years
To get to know my skin-
As it ages
And refuses to break
At another’s whim.

It’s not that I’m honored in that-
More amused
At how appalling
Some of my scars can be
To those who fell in love
With the princesses
The fairies- magical.
Beautiful-
They all think me to be.
Mothers. Daughters.

They’d never pause
To check the sink for blood
Pills. Drugs. Candy.

Pieces of hearts and perhaps my liver
Found fragments stuffed in hat boxes
And left to be sorely forgotten-
Long ago trodden
And served beside cake.