naked
Stripped Down. Naked. Day umpteen of hiding and my armor has been peeled away. Mirror, mirror… tell the truth, who am I without the suit? mirror, mirror be very clear, behind the mask behind the fear? mirror, mirror cracked & broken? hiding the shame of words unspoken… Day … lost count at 30… I stab at my touchscreen, searching for an unshattered sliver where my fingers won’t bleed. The cracks spiderweb across the glass, reflecting fractured versions of myself. A typist from the 70s, hammering letters onto a misaligned page. The ink never quite landing where it should. Always outside the lines. Everything around me breaking. I twirl my car keys, the golden tag of Burj Khalifa cold between my fingers… tik tik… nothing. Silence. A betrayal in metal and mechanics. My car as quiet as my mind now, something not connecting, everything stuck. I call for a tow truck, for a mechanic. Someone to fix what won’t move. They come for her, strap her down, wheel her off. Hands will pry her open, e...