Self Portrait

There’s a ghost in the place I call home

I see him in photos, mirrors, file cabinets,

His mouth is often contorted, twisted around what it should be

His eyes sit dull in every frame

I had to kill him, tear him apart

Does he hate me? Can he hate me?

They love him for not being anyone else

They love the smoke that fills their lungs

I wish I could have loved him

But you cannot love empty space

He mocks me in the dining room

He’s alone there, wearing a graduation cap that he didn’t earn

Dark, prickly fur coats his chin

And neck

And lips

And he hates it

And he wants to tear it off

And he wants to shred his skin

But instead, a sharpened brush carves my shape into the canvas

Ripping apart his longing

An outline, a smile

Eyes that beg to be closed

A face that begs to be forgotten

I long to kill him

But they insist he not be lost

They insist he be kept here

And kept safe, like he never was

And so there he stands

Taunting me

Loathing me

Killing me

In the place I cannot call home

Author's Note

My biggest concern is honestly the bit with the paintbrush and carving, I'm worried I'm mixing too many metaphors. Let me know if it works

Reviews

[Jiya]

For me it worked. I'm sorry but I don't understand the line "They love the smoke that fills their lungs" and how does it connect with a particular stanza and other lines present there.
Overall I really like this one, amazing work!!