"You look different," they say.
Maybe it is something about your eyes Or perhaps your skin has a new glow Or maybe your body has changed. "You look more beautiful," they say. Could it be the meals that keeping slipping my mind And the damn cigarettes that provide momentary numbness? Or maybe it's the daily beer that allows my thoughts to escape. Is that the beauty you are seeing? My brokenness. Is that why spines like railroad tracks are attractive? Are the bones of women scarred by disorder an object of desire? It sounds sick, when you think of her pain being your passion But why else do we seek to entertain ourselves with the glorious Hollywood life bleeding with an undertone of addiction, shattered relationships and sickness. "You just look more beautiful," they say. "I can't quite put my finger on it." And as you search for the subject of my changed appearance The scattered pieces inside of me shutter knowing You think my pain is beautiful. thanks.
1 Comment
Wolf
6/7/2017 02:06:30 pm
Is a bird that can't fly any less beautiful? How about a turtle that can't find its way? How about a love that will never be? It's not your wounds, it's the beauty of your soul.
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AuthorKatie Elizabeth: Writer, Wonderer, Wanderer. Archives
March 2019
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