A picture, a name,
a word and I’m there.
A lurching swing,
the tiniest flinch,
and I cannot even breathe.
The overwhelming sense
of being mute
smothers over my skin
and I am screaming
inside that head.

I shake myself,
the wild eyed collapse,
and drag myself to the mirror
and I scream at myself to look at it.
There! Look! See!
You are not there any more!
You aren’t her!
It isn’t really real!

Other times there is nothing,
no electric shrieking blister.
I look at it,
I try that body outfit on for size.
But it feels like nothing,
an empty ghost,
and I can’t even connect.
I can’t make that body move
or start up again at all.

But oh how the easy breaths
dance luscious lovely then.

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