from sick nights and empty containers of old cherry lipstick

there's an ache somewhere below my ribcage
hovering below the last bone somewhere in my lungs
like dirty air has crept into the vacancies of my body
and filled me with something mean and nasty
that claws from the inside like half a chance for beauty
and a ruinous gender smearing nail polish against keyboard covers

and did you know did you know
pride makes me hate myself even more
ever since orlando something bitter has been cultivating, 
souring in the crest of everything i think i am

and i didn't know it was possible to hate myself even more
the bile filling my mouth
and it rots at my teeth, this painful hatred for something i can't control

and my aunt commented that i lost weight this weekend
i know i know i know trust me i know i know
because the waistband of my jeans is loose, pulls out from my hips
and they don't fit properly anymore
all my dresses don't fit right anymore
don't pull in enough
my clothes are too big around me

and it feels like my skin does
like something that just joints me out of place
and i don't know i don't know
what qualifies as poetry anymore

all i know is that at one point for a brief moment
i thought i could be something resembling beautiful
only for a second only for a second

but i didn't realize that there is nothing beautiful about me

The End

1 comment about this poem Feed