fragmented frame

In mirrors, I see what others might miss, A body wrapped in bones, joints that twist. With clothes I’m hidden - like an invisibility cloak, But underneath, it’s the oddness I notice most. My torso feels foreign, not like my own, Hips jutting sharply, wrist bones stark as stone. Each scar on my left wrist whispers its pain, A story etched deep in the lines that remain. I long for a skin that feels like a home, Not this strange frame where I’m left alone. But maybe, just maybe, there’s strength in this body, In bony hips, this odd torso, and scars that bind to me. I’m learning to soften the gaze I hold tight, To see that this body has fought through the night, Though it’s different, it’s mine, and in time, I might see The beauty in the broken, in the bones, in me.