Self-portrait

My forehead is small, it holds roughly 5000 miles worth of incomplete thoughts and forgotten notes. My eyebrows, are light brown with an arch full of suspicion and tension. I have hooded eyes masking the truth. They’re sarcastically blue, and annoyingly tired to tell you the truth. My nose holds up the glasses my eyes use to see, other than that she’s nothing but annoying to me. My lips are thin, the bottom bigger than the top. Growing up I usually locked it and kept it in my pocket, even now it’s hard for me to say my name if the room’s too loud. My chin shakes when I cry. My anger trips the words my lips suffer to speak. My hair is short, yet I am still able to tie it back when the weight of the worlds threatens to crawl back up my throat. My ears are pierced, as is my nose…I wear three rings, two on the left stacked like the odds of life. The other is for the girl I grew up with, her ring resides on my right hand, for she carried me further than she will ever truly understand. Three necklaces as well, one for my papaw, for he is genuinely within, the next for my boyfriend a “D” scratched in, and the third for my mom a gold chain of which she has the twin. A charm bracelet that lives on my left wrist, oh how I know 8 year old me would crave to simply hold it. A brown hair-tie typically resides on my right wrist, annoying the hell out of me with it’s constant itch. I have a birthmark on my chest, it’s just a patch of skin darker than the rest…growing up I hated everything about it. Having it gave me shame for kids on the play ground knew how to play a wicked game.