In front of me

I stand in front of me
in my nakedness
and see the scars
I put there myself.

One day, I will forget myself.
I am not my home.
No diamonds
brighten my night.

My whispers are words I do not trust,
and my silence is a wound I dare not show,
a skin made of memories,
lost fingerprints, without a trace.

I am learning to stay in the rooms I used to flee,
naming the shadows as if they were mine.
There is no sound, only breath,
and my soul breaking.