i hate my boobs.

looking turned to touching and touching turned to silence
your words are written over the hills and the dips of my breasts
and there are none of mine.

nothing.

silence.

i hate the lack of power i possess over my femininity
and i hate that i cannot change before mirrors anymore
without feeling so isolated from a part of my body that should be mine.

so i look at them now with no emotion.
lumps of fat and tissue.

because the other option means that i'll have to relive your lies again.