I peeled myself like an onion.
A stinging stain of
scent upon all the fingers
that touched
my secret places.

I pushed into myself
until all that was inside
was outside. Until everything
dripped bloody and confused
on to a lumpy carpet.

I pulled myself apart
And piled the pieces high
like building blocks.
I made myself into a tower
that wobbled in a draft.

I rebuilt myself into a mosaic.
I smoothed down the shards
of pottery and glass.
Remade them into the shape of me
until I saw myself looking back.

I hang myself on the wall for you
to see the tiny fractures of me
cemented together.
I made myself permanent.
Long lasting.
Wholly here.

I believed I was ugly,
I am not.

Lizzie, client in her 20s