You Can Be Pretty Too: The Tale of the Monsters Who Weren't Monsters (day 49)

Saltwater runs down the bathroom wall

I hug my legs so tightly they might snap

as I tear away from your gaze,

read into every letter your lips write me.

 

All I can hear you say is

you’re trying to block the monsters

not monsters

from turning my soul into junkyard scraps

 

but I want to tell you they’re not the bad kind,

they’re the fragile kind people want to collect and

hang in their pretty houses

in patterns and packages

and pretend it makes them quirky.

 

My bones and soul are cracked and rusted

and almost too little to live

but in my eyes they’re so beautiful…

 

You can be pretty too,

I have connections

I’ll let them whisper in your ear

so the metal turns colors and

looks like a feather

that’s so good at whispering softly to your skin,

and a kaleidoscope drifts

into your beautiful eyes,

the monsters

not monsters

can perfect you too.

 

With the letters I can bend my bones into,

I can almost spell the names

of things I can’t have like

strawberries and that half bite of chocolate

 

They remind me of all the times

you told me

Have a taste.

 

But I can’t, I count so carefully

Every move is a heartbeat

Every sound is a stab

Every smell is something the monsters

not monsters

hold over me.

 

But I’m telling you right now

I’m in control

I’m so in control

 

You can be pretty too.

Just let me tell you.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 9/18/16- Inspired by Savannah Brown

Have a taste

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allets's picture

THERE IS

an ongoing dialogue in your poem or a monologue that answers inquiries, or maybe not :D. ~A~



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allets's picture

Dup

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