yesterday as i scratched the bitterness out of my eyelids i met a mirage of you
and i think i found him more charming
he told me he loved my wit (not my body) and my mind (not my face) and maybe it would be better if i stopped rubbing my knees
with ash and sandpaper all the damn time
he took me to sunday tea, and he handled me like porcelain
you're fine china; babe, did you know that? chamomile or, perhaps, earl grey? he taught me how to rinse sins off tea leaves and
wash crimson underneath nailbeds and God, it felt like rejuvenation
today i scrubbed my pores and rubbed grime off my irises
because he told me so. and babe, why didn't you ever notice?
(i undid the stitches on my mouth today because he told me so.
i think i like myself talking more than you ever did.)
he placed a diadem, raw and scrappy, on my head today
i began to tell him you wouldn't approve, and you know what?
i think i'd rather you didn't.
quite raw and unedited like most of my other poems (oops!). basically i was going for a girl whose s/o didn't treat her right and now she's only coming to realization