By Alexandra Hechimi
today, i unroll the creased cuffs of my fishnets,
press down and smoothen them like a compulsion,
steal a glance of my reflection in a rogue window,
unfurl the corners of my mouth one at a time,
explore my foreign cheeks as if wading through smog,
bite down on my lip to keep silent and
wipe off blood with the back of my hand
i join my knees and hover my thighs,
observe wide-eyed through last week’s paint on my lashes,
adjust the pleats of my skirt, ignore wandering stares,
run my thumb over cracks and brittle crimson nails,
lift a hesitant hand, seek out tender cheekbones,
look down again, lament old scars and
hum to avoid my stomach’s tangled abyss
i drag my tongue against the back of my clenched teeth,
teach myself to inhale and ignore scent,
try and fail to loosen my locked jaw,
breathe through the learned gap between my lips,
drain my comatose eyes of color and
steel my curved spine into unnatural stillness
tonight, i pretend the disembodied eyes follow me,
linger on my neck, pause, and slither lower,
trace the slope of my back as my forehead falls,
judge my proportions, assess, measure my waist,
evaluate my traits and movements and
watch for an accidental shudder, a revealing twitch
i create voices that scratch at my skin, pick apart my every move,
sink their teeth into to my uneven bones,
stare back through the mirror, circle defects,
dig their tendrils slowly into my ribs,
whisper the flaws of my flesh against the shell of my ear and
screech until i forget which thoughts are mine.
Alexandra Saida Hechimi (she/her) is a trilingual high-school senior who strongly believes in the healing power of creation (and sugary coffee). She loves early morning iced macchiatos, writing at midnight, and listening to music. If she isn’t painting or singing, you can find her composing speeches for her Women’s Rights Association or planning her next Halloween costume eleven months in advance. You can find her on Twitter @ali_0325_8
