Second title
I like the halo on your head, I'm waiting for it to be tipped.
-
Mundane baby,
love me in the way you love the least,
Give me less and less of you.
The Greek gods are so fucking boring
compare me to them in all the ways you can
Because I am black
and all I've ever been taught is how to relate to a white saviour
Please, please don't teach me anything new.
I don't want to have to crack again.
There isn't enough clay after this to rebuild
I'll leave this hole here and let you think you've healed it.
We both know you can here the hollow sound as these thoughts leave my body, you can hear the cracks in my voice and the whistle of slow doubtful winds off my lips.
Never bring it up.
I don't wanna open.
Here I am, already sore for you.
I don't want to be molded into something prettier.
Keep me as I am.
Fall asleep at the spinning wheel.
I won't fold over I promise.
YOU ARE READING
Untitled Anthology for the 20 somethings
PoetryMoulding myself into something I'm not. a love letter to all the sweetly gorey things and afflictions that are a part of being a young adult like love, insecurities and vulnerability in 15 parts. Image: "Connected, Communicating" Noah Kocher.
