I always try to be approachable.
I practice in the mirror, smile
At myself. But I can easily see
Through my smoker's grin,
Anxiety yellow from Freudian oral fixation
And yellow isn't inviting.
My tongue traces the ridges between my teeth,
Tasting self accolades, stuck like broccoli.
I ferret them out ferociously,
Disgusted at my oversight.
Praise flits into the trash
Settling comfortably at the bottom
Among used tissues and forgotten receipts.
YOU ARE READING
Coffee And Divination
PoetryPoems about depression, love, life, anxiety, body dysmorphia, suicide, self harm, and occasionally politics. I hope you enjoy the things that make me, Coffee and Divination. Updated as I write new poetry I deem decent enough for the public eye.
