I was a girl
and you took something from me
that belonged to a woman
*
I looked at myself in the mirror
and learned how to see
what you wanted me to become
*
I didn’t sound like myself
in your vicinity
and I thought that my acts of self-betrayal
were a confirmation of who I was
*
and I looked at photographs of myself
and thought
is there even one picture in existence
that actually reveals who I am
*
photographs hid
photographs carved
photographs pretended
photographs put together
the dead unseen
*
I wonder whether photography
can bring to the surface what you were thinking
*
you stared at me
and I asked myself
who am I
*
when you spoke
I made myself
small
I made myself disappear
within my body
still standing
halfway vacant
one touch and I’d fall apart
*
you loved the power that leaked out of my body
you gorged on it
and forgot that it was foreign matter
*
who is this man whose absence is as terrifying as his presence
*
you observed me
and always wanted me to be something else
always the opposite of what I was
always different
but you were never precise
you never knew what you were talking about
I would never become a person
I’d always remain a slow-hardening pecked at unfinished clump of clay
and somehow
in a way
you wouldn’t dare to come near me
with your hands
Croque-Melpomene 