like movie sunrises in sepia

and in the stark bathroom light, 
the angles of my face are thrown into contrast

plum-purple swathes below my flickering eyes, 
a deep bruise color that fades out eventually into pink-peach skin

and i look tired, 
in the way of someone who didn't just get a bad night's sleep, 
but hasn't rested properly in weeks. 

my nose rises out of my face, arched cartilage, 
and my cheeks extend on either side, 
bones solid under the flesh

i look haggard, almost, 
like sweaters fraying at the sleeves, 
in a way that isn't endearing but instead just annoying

lips that curl around my words, 
jumble and mix them up
until pretty much nobody can understand what i'm saying

it's a washed-out earl gray color, my mouth, 
matching the thinning pastels and worn-away watered-down shades of my skin

i'm melting, 
slipping and sliding into one thing, 
pulling myself inwards and imploding

but for now
i'm just washing away,
like strains of red wine captured in the creases of your hand

my hair lies tucked neatly behind my ears, 
a couple stray locks sticking straight out, as they tend to do
and i look, really look for the first time in ages, 
at the way i appear sunken, 
a lost painting crushed in the mix. 

a light flush twines across my cheekbones
and i try to breathe, breathe, 
watching my chest lift and fall

i close my eyes, 
just for a second, 
but when i open them
the soft violet and dull, pale tint of my skin has not lessened

and i don't think i like myself, 
under this harsh bathroom lighting. 

The End

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