blood rushes to your cheeks in a painted shade of pink
your eyes turn purple and red underneath
freckles peppered across your face like stars in the sky
and i am simply watching,
longing to be like the night
they way ive learned to define beauty
always starts with white
and how i longed to be the nighttime sky
my days of wishing to be the moon
but i find myself more in the sun,
when it touches my skin to replicate its warmth across my skin
my dark eyelids
and the darkness underneath them
you tell me that i am beautiful
and you tell me that i should love the skin i am
the skin ive bleached and painted and cried for
you laced white passing inside me like tight stitched embroidery
i cant pull from my fabrics
and the hole from where the needle embedded itself inside me will always remain
YOU ARE READING
some questions id ask my creator about the sun the moon and my place in between
Poetrysome poetry. some common themes are, DID (dissociative identity disorder, the spilt in someones identity which causes them to alter between multiple other identities. more formal term for multiple personalities.) religion (i am not religious, the ma...
