I asked her why her cheeks were wet,

her eyes all red,

her wrists like a thousand small river beds.

I asked her

and she stared at me

we touched finger tips

against the mirror

Her skin felt like cool, hard glass

I wiped my cheeks

she did the same

but smeared blood across her face

I left

and she did too

Maybe she'll talk tomorrow

When I returned she had changed

as if something was eating her alive

her face had sunken

dark doll eyes caved in

with lips like fragile glass, hers, were splitting open

I wanted to understand

"Where does it hurt?" I whispered

"Where does it hurt?" she echoed

Her shoulders slumped

the reflection of defeat

"Everywhere."