She wears something new
every day.

Sometimes it’s a straitjacket, and
she’s near bursting to a
naked mistake.

Sometimes it’s too comfortable,
too easy. So baggy and shapeless that
she’s soft enough to be hurt.

Sometimes it’s hard, so pale and
instantly unforgiving, so cold it
makes you forget what the
natural flush of the skin looks like.

Sometime it is an instant
match, and she is all
you see.

Whenever she flinches or
closes her eyes like it hurts,
remember it is because
she feels another cocoon
hovering.

Whenever she smiles at you,
remember it’s rare, and remember
it’s only when you’ve
earned it.

Whenever she inspects the ceiling,
remember it’s because she
can’t believe she’s still
here.

If she finally reaches out, don’t push her
away.

Because it might be the
only time she ever
does…