I am split.
These two halves of myself never seamless,
Never conjoined, barely even touching.
On one, my chest is sunken, skull bashed,
A manic dishevelment at its core
A desperate smile yet still is pasted from one cheek to another
Which will never fade so long as you keep coming back.
I will be beaten, bloodied, bruised, a mess under your touch
So long that you do not leave me alone in this dark place.
The other is fair- clean skin and clothes pressed neatly.
She is not sad, not broken, not ruined,
But there is a fury behind her eyes that wants to stand,
Stand well above you, and look down,
"I deserve better than this."
Scars would never be anything but the colour of
Clouds, cotton, fresh paint on the walls and coconut milk
She's sweet too, doesn't hide out of fear of you leaving,
Doesn't cower away from telling someone that she's hurting
Because she's scared that they will give up.
This is not your doing. These were carved out of old clay,
Crafted in the image a past that was once well hidden.
This is not your fault, because I am not your burden.
YOU ARE READING
sugar glazed.
Poetrya collection of short and long poems that entail hopefully a real perspective on life, love and relationships with others. please read with caution, some themes are heavy so read away, darlings, or don't, after all, ignorance is bliss.
