“When you say that I am beautiful, please, tell me why. I don't want you to just say it to flatter me, or make me blush, it will work in your favor, sure, but if you're going to tell me that I am beautiful, make me believe it. Because, I wake up with myself every morning, and I know what my hair looks like, and I have probably seen the way my eyes look more than you have. I know how my eyebrows look, simply because I have refused to pluck them, my ears and nose are rather average, and I have memorized the small gaps and overlaps of my teeth, so I know what I look like, you don't need to remind me of my facial features, you're going to have to try a little harder. I know I talk with my hands, and I know I stutter from time to time, I trip when I walk, over nothing but my toes, and I bite my nails, did you know that? I pick at my cuticles when I am nervous and crack my knuckles in any emotional state. I probably giggle too much and smile way too often, and overuse the words, "I love you" are these things that make me beautiful, or just make me who I am? I don't know, you're going to have to make me believe it. I make things, out of junk and I cannot draw a simple stick figure, I spend way too much time writing, and not enough time talking, and I can't even whistle a short melody, let alone sing one. My heart is everywhere but beating inside my chest, and I look at world maps and think about the different faces in each different place and I wonder if these hearts feel worthy of love sometimes. Take a look at my thoughts, dig and dig and dig deeper, do you still think I am beautiful? Why? ”
—I know who I am, but am I beautiful?
In Somnia
they say
a girl can dream
and that’s really
what this is because
in dreams we have
no control, only
mere consciousness
(ironic, because
in sleep we are
unconscious
by definition)
a dream is unlike
a goal or a wish
because it is
completely internal;
an emotion happening
as a direct result to -
nothing.
so I am not lying
when I say that
the world owes
me nothing;
I unconsciously
yearn as the
body longs
to sleep
Sarah.
because you said I am incredibly smart, and in the same breath, a killer.
If scars are apologies then I will never say sorry
again.
I imagine yours as battle wounds of a childhood
spent with too many mothers and a father who
couldn’t help you from six feet under ground.
I bet if you read this you wouldn’t know that each
line is a love letter.
I imagine the first time we kiss will be awkward and my hands will
fumble but we will find that middle ground and I will not let you
go any further than my line of sight.
You told me you stabbed a pen into your wrist during
a manic moment and my skin tingled with the
realization that you do the things I talk myself out of.
Maybe I am better with words but you are better at
speaking and there’s a lot to be said about the
girl who can make me see the difference.
Half Moon Beautiful
There is lonely in you
There is this sadness
sinking like an abandoned ship
that people will call beautiful
a few years down the line.
There is a ghost town
of wiped away smiles,
So many fingerprints
collecting dust on your skin,
so many voices echoing
between your ribs.
There is silence in you.
There is this straightjacket on your heart,
this memory of a beat that is screaming
to prove its sanity, there is a home
as broken as its missing family.
You seem so lost, lover.
You seem like you’ve been searching for a key
but only finding notes to songs
you don’t have the voice box to open
you are the kind of broken that doesn’t hide.
Your smile might as well be a crack
your dimple a scar, your laughter a scream
You are sadness even in your ecstasy.
Hey, you breathtaker
hey, you half moon beautiful.
how did you get here?
Don’t tell me you’re not exquisite.
don’t tell me you’re not magnetic.
when there is so much masterpiece in your magic.
You are so unapologetically lost.
Don’t be this beautiful
and expect me not to fall.
