ew you’re on your period
that’s disgusting
and whenever i get a "feminine product"
i have to hide it deep down where nobody sees it
but you see
we live in a world where our own girls are getting *****
i’m a girl, not a *** object
but in the eyes of a ****** that is
exactly
what
i am
but i’m not an object
i am a person
i am a life giver
just imagine if men were as disgusted in **** as they are with periods
in the sixth grade
when the word period was mentioned
the whole room would burst out in laughter
i am a girl
my lady bits bleed
and that’s what makes me strong
and that’s what makes me a young woman
and that’s what will make me a mother one day
so ew you’re on your period
that’s disgusting
is not an insult to me

why do pretty girls

cut them selves

starve themselves

want to die?

because once upon a time they weren't pretty to you.
they were weren't pretty to society.

why? because we build this dumb notion of what beautiful really is.
blue eyes
blonde hair
long skinny legs
flat chest and tummy.

no

that does not makeup a beautiful person.
nor is it perfect.

i am not perfect
you are not either.

so why do we degrade eachother
if what we have under our complexion is all the same.

I got beat
for getting a D
a nod for a C
an empty "good job" for a B
and a "that's what you should get
every day, all the time,
what do you want? A good job?"
for an A

I couldn't get your approval
After 6 years
I still can't get your approval

So I did something,
to get your attention

I drew blood.
In front of you.
You threw me another knife.
"Is it worth it?"
"Your begging for attention."
So I continued.
Until I passed out.

I woke up.
You screamed.
You slapped me.
You said that was useless.
You said I was mental.

I tried speaking up for myself.
You slapped me again.

No matter what I do.
I will never satisfy you.

the girl after will be
a bootlegged version
of me
she will never taste
like me and
i hope she writes
you poetry but we all know
her metaphors will never
erase the ones
i left stained on your lips

Perhaps it was that champagne five-o’clock light slanting through our glass walls,
golden-warm like honey we licked straight from hive

Yes, perhaps it was those low, sun-softened shadows,
that silky honey-light dribbling lazily through our window
glazing my corneas  
blurring my vision
and the lines I drew between us

Our honey-dipped conversation flowed smoothly,
the summer bleached hairs on the back of my neck swayed in tandem to our words
and your fingers
as they worked loose the knots in the sinew
cocooning my spine

Perhaps that is why those words –
so viscous in the twelve o’clock light
that they almost choke me
as I try to regurgitate them –
flowed up my windpipe
Smoothly
as warm honey drips
from the edge of a
butterknife

Or

Perhaps it was the rosé
painted across your cheeks
like sincerity
Or the way those crushed velvet fingertips
painted my cheeks to match yours
and pressed my eyelids
shut

Do not blame me
for the honey pooling at the corners of my lips
for the wine stains on my cheeks

Do not forget it was you
who fed me honey
who intoxicated me with colours of the eight o’clock sunset
who wrapped me in velvet
who bid the sun linger awhile longer
in my sky

Do not forget
the words I said
were words you gave me
Do not blame me
when they spill from the edges of my mouth

You dye your hair, you change your style, you wear different clothes. You begin to speak differently, you don't like the way you were and everyone knows. You were too ordinary, you felt invisible. You were drowning in the silence. You didn't stick out and you hated it, it became unbearable so you changed. You dyed your hair, you changed your style, you wear different clothes. You aren't yourself...all this just to be noticed.

You saw me naked.
Not without clothes, but without my wall.
The 10 foot, steel reinforced, wall around my heart.
You broke in, brick by brick.
And I let you, I let you see me vulnerable.
Forgetting what others had done to me when they saw me the same.
I wish I could say you were different.
But, you saw me naked.
And you laughed, pointed out my insecurities, and broke me so much that I rebuilt my wall.
I rebuilt it higher and stronger than before.
Protecting my heart from so called love.
You also saw me without clothes.
Burned your touch into my skin.
Whispered sweet nothings into my ear, and that's just what they meant.
Nothing.
I can't look at my body without thinking about you.
Because, you saw me naked.
Defenseless and with open arms.
I shouldn't have trusted you.
But I did anyway.
I thought that since you had a wall to we would be amazing together.
But.
I never saw you naked.