She, Frankenstein

Frankenstein's_monster_(Boris_Karloff)A smile stitched together
like Frankenstein’s monster
greets her mirrored reflection. 

The scars she doesn’t feel,
not anymore and never again,
are still red, unfaded,
like fallen soldiers on a battlefield,
blood oozing from every wound.

The lip curls up, wryly, 
as she stares into the war
that rages behind her eyes.

(Thank you to the man walking in front of me on 125th Street today who said something about “Frankenstein’s monster” that planted the seed for this little poem. I owe ya one.)



About nikkimmascali

I am an editor, writer and New Yorker who has ink for blood and the blog name + tattoo to prove it. Also of note: I follow more dogs than people on Instagram. This is my blog about reading, writing and absolutely no 'rithmetic because I am horrendous at math.
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