the walls are whispering & my name is the last thing they'll say.
the sidewalks swallow my legs whole & spit out my bones.
the chandelier sways towards me when i walk pass it. shards of glass & crystals itching to try on a new shade of red.
these high heels were meant for cracking ankles not walking. this lipstick was meant to remind others that i can wear crimson on my lips & still smile through the blood rush. this paint on my nails is to hide the fact that on the inside i am decaying & my nail beds are starting to show the grey.
i spend more time looking at myself in the mirror than i do looking at old photos of myself. & every girl i have met would kill for my eyebrows. & i wish that they would just say they would like to have nice eyebrows. there is nothing natural about painted skin.
i wish for new skin. i wish for something more smooth & less scarred. something of less burnt flesh. this skin has more tears & rips than a toddler's first paper snowflake & i am sorry.
i am sorry that every breath that leaves these bloodied lips is an apology.
but who am i to wish for vanity when this skin has kept me so warm.
who am i to apologize for already letting this starved thing die.
YOU ARE READING
Fragmentation
PoetryFragmentation// the process or state of breaking or being broken into small or separate parts. ××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××× It's hard for me to complete my poems. And I finally decided to share some of my poetry with strangers. These...
