The Vase


  Do not tell me that I am beautiful,
For too long it had been the only words I searched for
And I’d searched high and low
Into the icy mountains of isolation
Into the dehydrating deserts of deprivation
I’ve explored every ugly letter of beautiful
Only to find
I am not

  Do not tell me that I am beautiful

  Do not tell me I have big lips,
Tell me you hear the words coming from them
Tell me the things I say
Echo inside your mind
Like a hymn in a cathedral
That when I speak
My voice resonates
It cracks with bitten cries and booms with meaningful thought

  Do not tell me that I am beautiful

    Do not tell me I have dark eyes,Tell me about a salty sea that drips tears
Thick and slow
Like blood
When I mention my brother and sisters
Tell me you can see
I have bled an ocean for my family
Through these eyes

  Do not tell me that I am beautiful

 

  Do not tell me I have pretty hair,
Tell me how it brushes against my cheeks
When I stand in the tall sunburnt grass
Of the windy countryside
Tell me how good it is that I’m going to donate it
And ask me how long it will take to grow out
Tell me how many times you counted
Me pulling it back into a ponytail in one day
And whether you hate having long hair too

  Do not tell me that I am beautiful

  Do not tell me I am fat or thin,
Tell me how strong my arms must be
From attempting to lift the world onto my shoulders
And tear worries and fears from my siblings’ holds
Tell me how I leap when I run
That my heart beat sounds like a drum
Pumping healthy blood to and from
Because after all, that’s how it works

  Do not tell me that I am beautiful

  They are no longer the words I search for,
If self image were a vase
Mine has been shattered
A hammer was taken to it
No one else is cleaning it up, and there isn’t any apology
So I’m working to superglue the pieces back together
But the crevices between shards of glass
are never going to disappear
There will be scars

  Do not tell me that I am beautiful

Because apparently scars are not very pretty
But it’s what keeps my image
stitched together
Those scars are the only reason I remember who I am

So do not tell me I am beautiful
Because I  am
So, much more






Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback