pin my wings to the walls

and cover me with crystal

glass. watch me whimper

and scream and moan

and scream and cry

and scream and scream.

it’s fine. i heard words

are louder after the body

rots.

when the vivid vitality

of my body is draining

into the spotless, white

wall, tell yourself that

i belong in the emptiness

of a pristine case.

after all, something so

beautiful should never be

free.

i wish i could crush beauty

into orange and black ashes

and carry it in the locket my

grandmother gave me when

i was five. i would show it to

blushing boys and police officers

but not to the men who glance

up my pleated plaid skirt and

smile.

this hideous beauty of mine

is the only thing i have ever

had. correction- the only

thing you ever gave to me.

why do you keep looking

up my pleated plaid skirts?

once, you grabbed my wrist and

called me beautiful. that was

enough.

so pin my wings to the walls

and cover me with crystal

glass. watch me whimper

and scream and whimper

and wail and whimper

and whimper and whimper.

when my body stopped

moving, you didn’t even

notice.