She Used To Be Mine

Eyes stared back hauntingly from the mirror. They were brown plates on a white cloth serving raw hatred. Tear streaks climbed down from the corners of the eyes, slipping down the sharp slopes of her visible cheek bones. Skeleton fingers reached up and brushed away the flecks of dirt that dotted the glass, and hovered slightly above the curve of her nose.

Stepping back, she looked at the fragile glass her body was formed from; thin wrists, caving stomach, visible bones. Perhaps this wasn't beautiful- perhaps this was grotesque. Looking forwards, she heard the voices again.

"Not enough. Never enough."