Waste of a Naked Girl

just a little excerpt from my memoir.


“Waste of a Naked Girl”

When I think of it, of our naked bodies lying together
on the bed in his apartment, right across the way from
my own, it is far away. It was another lifetime.
Afternoons and beers and long nights and his hands on
my body... that could not have been me, there is
disparity between me and her. Me and her; different
girls. She is naked and happy and lush. I am—
what?
Scary.

That is what I am. A waste of skin, a thing to be abhorred.

Nakedness does not become me anymore.
I have tried to stare this body down in the mirror,
tried to lay another picture, one I keep in my mind, of this
lush girl, over top of my reality. It does not work.
The mirror cannot see my mind;
I can no longer look into the mirror.

What a waste of a naked girl.


(i used to have a body that men adored. slender,
but not skinny, shapely,
flat belly, small but firm bosom, killer legs.
i would kill myself if i weren’t dying already,
if there weren’t already a downward spiral happening.
there is a burden, a burden of memory, weighing me down,
it is the only weight on me. i can remember a life
before this living walking disgusting hell and it is
a goddamn burden.
i want to kill this memory, because in this
reality, any other lives do not matter. they cannot. )