Appraisal

There's dirt under my chipped hangnails
with my cuticles peeling back,
and to move after being still
feels like my bones are creaking metal,
grinding and screeching as the shock
ripples through me.

I don't remember the last time I felt like a lady,
a beautiful one at that;
my old vanity is lost under holey work shirts and scuffed jeans.

My lips are chapped,
And I don't remember if I brushed my teeth.
I heave a heavy sigh as I slip away from the mirror,
an object that used to bring me great joy.

My heart longs for something with more substance than surface level beauty,
yet the carnal being inside whimpers to feel the euphoria
of catching someone's heart in my teeth
with just one glance.