I glare at the full-length mirror trying

to comprehend this mess

you see in me.

You stare at my flaws, these holes in my life,

blaming them for the problem

burning at your core.

But I accept them as me.

Yet you plug them with bandages 

of lies and deceit,

which layer over and over again

wrapping me like a mummy,

I would be dead on the inside.

I choose to leave them open,

permitting air to flow through me.

I see no blemishes in the mirror.

Only an abstract work of art 

stands proudly before me.

My holes are like

connect-the-dots.

Draw the lines between to make my constellation

in this celestial body.

They are the map

that leads to my treasure of life.

Please don’t try to cover them up

to make you feel good that I’m whole again.

Only you are the problem in this equation because

I know these holes won’t close.

But I accept them

because I’ve changed from the pain.

I am allowed to breathe now,

the pressure never building

as my stress flows freely out.

They allow me to live now.