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& sometimes being beautiful is the only way to escape fire
you’re cutting your body with music
trying to discover how an empty city
dissolves another city
& an empty city is a woman’s body
burning with anxiety
burning under the radar of light
& everyday we look in the mirror
we stare our bodies
as though we’re tourists
trying to observe nature’s remarks
someone’s breast is falling
someone’s body is stretched with marks someone’s face is coined with a tribe
& we’re judged by them
& everyday we return to the mirror
we tell ourselves:
. . . we ain’t good
. . . we ain’t worth
& you’re burning with so much grief
so much pain that leaves your body
longing for another touch from magic
& so sometimes whispering
to yourself alone, i’m beautiful
is the only way to escape fire.
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