wordsthroughtheglass

my brain on a page

OCD

Only Charlotte’s Doing

With the white press of the rosary
she whimpers meaning into words,

offering the temporary comfort of prayer.
She arches her neck towards her reflection

then covers yesterday’s skin
with a thick liquid layer.

Pinch and pluck lashes
until her lids are pink –

like soft soles of a newborn.
Next she coarsely applies mascara

to the remaining stumps
congealing the damage together.

With the white press of the rosary
she whimpers meaning into words.

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