Deep-diving into the culprits of my self-deprecation, "Discount Shakespeare" showcases all 50 of my poems, originally posted on Twitter, which I had written from my high school years to this day (whenever this gets published, I guess).
Teeming with...
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Discount Shakespeare An anthology of musings Poetry by luxsick
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Miya sings the blues
Have I ever wondered what my blue dress looked like On other people's bodies, in other people's minds? Would it bring them further than where it brought me — Away from the red-lined chaos of fame's heart-stopping chorus line? In the passenger's seat, perhaps, it would mean stillness — A tranquil wisp, an August morning's calmness, yet to Get flooded by a lifetime of consequences. I wouldn't know that for sure, though. I'm no martyr. Cascading down their skin, letting bruises blend in. Good as new, I'd wear that dress in a heartbeat.
Have I ever wondered what my blue dress would do, If it had eyes that stung against the theater's harsh yellow? Would it scream? Would its blood curdle? Overflow? Would it shred itself to pieces, leaving me cold and bare? If it could taste its inhibitions on the night we danced Under every star, when the world stopped to watch us, Entangled in the nocturnes of my dress, would it have known That I was given wings and expected to fall? I wouldn't let it control me.
I wish to have wondered what my blue dress could sense, When I threw my car keys into the raging fire. To have lit my car aflame, leaving no mess, no scratches, No tears along its seams, takes decades of solemnity to master. In those years of practice, of straining my feelings to the hilt, I'd strip bare. I'd stop wondering what else a body of colors Did to mine. I let my dress breathe in a glass tub of flowers To replenish the life it's lost in all the lives I had to lose. I thank the world, for at least, it let my dress rest easy. In the end, I still felt tired. I never would've answered temptation, anyway. Piece by piece, petal by petal, I wish to have wondered If the blues I sang were something big all along.
I need not wonder what lay before me, not in its scandalous demeanor Or its reckless, red-stained conduct on display. I need not see its depictions Of the theater's prison. I only needed to keep my dress above ground, away From the cement where my dreams were born to die. I need not wonder Beyond the final warning sign. I've conquered the world as a star, encased in Every shade of blue. I've seen the world before me in the arms of my hero. But to wonder where my show goes, where going on seemed fatal, looming lonely At a standstill of hope, a remnant of my past, would mean being in a league of my own. A human. A muse. A heroine.
