The Mirror Eighth Edition | Page 14

starving dogs dance with dead flowers Eliana Kontokanis feed me to starving dogs! watch them take my (too wide of) frame and dwindle it down into nothing more than a fragile fingerprint (of what i never wanted to be). look amazed as they rip me apart, desperate for the warmth and nutrition i so longed to give myself. the sounds of crunching bones and slopping jaws will ring a chorus in your ear louder than fourth of july fireworks, and i promise you will be speechless! when the alpha lunges for my stomach, do not stop it; do not avert your gaze; pay close attention as i am unfolded and water rushes out of my gut, followed by wilting flowers— the ruined gardens i wanted to grow within me, panicking and drenching them when it was too late. (i forgot i cannot save mangled things.) my face will look peaceful above this chaos. do not feel guilty, my friend, i was waiting for this all along! i’m sorry you had to see this (to see me like this) but i promise this massacre will have brought me silence. 14