what happened to the face that i so loved
(i can bet you distorted it with a knife)
when i was young and found
it comforting to hold and to kiss?
you scare me too much now that it is
covered in meander creases called scars
and dried black blood from the knife
that you still continue to scratch from your
wide forehead down to your pointed chin
without ever looking into the reflection of a mirror
which tells all truth by one sincere look
then maybe (after) you will see your mutilations
abrasively soothing to the bone
grinding together
slowly rubbing away all that is covering
the clear white color
of your skin

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