you left me a ghost looking in the mirror; yet again

i’ve decided I’ve changed.

inhale my growth,

because it’s in the air around me;

it’s attached to my aura

and it’s in the new paintings

hanging on my walls.

listen to it like a song on repeat,

but you can’t taste it-

not yet.

not until I give you permission.

you can see it

on my skin in between

the rips in my jeans,

and in the jewelry that spills

onto my tanned skin.

my necklaces change

with the days of the week,

and my two rings aren’t that lonely

anymore.

Do Not interrupt my peace.

if you try and wash away my ink and blood,

it will only cut deeper.

i will splinter my ears further

and drown you out with metal.

and do not be fooled by the appearance

of my skin:

it is reptilian

because of you.

you taught me to grow scales,

and i bet you wouldn’t even recognize my own blood

if it dripped on you from the ceiling above.

you left Me a ghost;

looking in the mirror

yet again.

except this time my blood dripped from the surface

and not my insides.