Your cleavage is the sum
of everything you want to be:
on show and constantly talked about,
but when you have loaded words in
a shotgun mouth, spewing out
miscellaneous shells to the nobodies
of your street, then you’ll
fail to become that gap between your *******.

Keep quiet and remain dressed;
having numbers next to friends
is a contest you win at,
but count on your hands the mouths
that like you, and you’ll realise you’re
alone.

Trying on my sister’s makeup at six years old,
Seemed like the coolest thing,
Using all sorts of crayons for your eyes in different colors,
Like the ones included in my $1.75 coloring book,
I was trying to be beautiful,
But I knew I didn’t need it,
Using mascara on my hair,
Using extensions to make my hair longer,
Using blush as eye shadow,
Drawing on red cheeks with lipstick,
Taking her size B bra and stuffing it with toilet paper,
Trying on heels because I want to be taller,
Putting on a dress and finally be able to fill it out with my stuffed bra,
I thought I was beautiful,
Even though I probably looked like a carnival clown,
10 years later,
I know how to use makeup,
I use mascara on my eyelashes,
I use eyeliner for my eyes,
I use blush for my cheeks,
I use lipstick for my lips,
I have a double D bra and fill it without toilet paper,
I own heels but I can’t wear them because I am too tall,
I have hair to my waist,
I’m still trying to be beautiful,
But I now won’t show my face without makeup,
I wear a mask hoping someone will remove it,
To tell me I don’t need it,
But they don’t because I do,
Because in my eyes,
I still look like a carnival clown.