Textile Facade

I wish I was the kind of girl to wear dresses
Busts of lace and skirts of tulle
Spinning, twirling,
Never ending circles of beautiful patterns
Adorning my body like I was something delicate
And pretty.

But instead I am scraps of wool
And new leather with the bloody muscle intact
Scratchy, hot,
Suffocating the skin beneath snares of thread
Corsets made to break ribs and crush the lungs
For beauty.

Perhaps I’m desirable on the outside
To those who search for comfort, not beauty
But once they look beneath my textile facade
All they see is a thousand shards of glass,
The remains of broken mirrors that housed
Reflections of me.