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jnelletPoems
I know her by name. I know her by face. Only, I don't even know her at all. I think I've seen her once, and for once I wasn't disappointed. We are so much alike only she has brighter eyes. We are so much alike; So, I figured from black and white I could be pastel-- faded bright. We are so much alike only she drinks psalms like the preacher's wine. Before I abandoned religion I used to kneel and break bread every Sunday, too. So, I figured I could still be as holy if I clapped my hands together and whispered litanies on candles burning outside chapels— faded light. We are so much alike in the way we love books and music, anything aesthetic. But, I am wrapped in tin foil and she dons silk and laces. Same filling, different faces. And kid, I wouldn't blame you for craving the same flavor in different packaging. We are so much alike only, compared to her porcelain China doll skin, I am a witch's voodoo, covered in pins and needles piercing rough skin, a cheap imitation— a fake. We are so much alike only I'm lying when I say we are because she is pastel paint in coffee shops and I am crayola vandals on the sidewalk. And let's admit pretty isn't anything I would ever be. It makes me sick. Because I'm not like her. I'm never going to be just pretty; Pity, that's all they ever want us to be.
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Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 11:13 AM UTC
Pastel
I know her by name. I know her by face. Only, I don't even know her at all. I think I've seen her once, and for once I wasn't disappointed. We are so much alike only she has brighter eyes. We are so much alike; So, I figured from black and white I could be pastel-- faded bright. We are so much alike only she drinks psalms like the preacher's wine. Before I abandoned religion I used to kneel and break bread every Sunday, too. So, I figured I could still be as holy if I clapped my hands together and whispered litanies on candles burning outside chapels— faded light. We are so much alike in the way we love books and music, anything aesthetic. But, I am wrapped in tin foil and she dons silk and laces. Same filling, different faces. And kid, I wouldn't blame you for craving the same flavor in different packaging. We are so much alike only, compared to her porcelain China doll skin, I am a witch's voodoo, covered in pins and needles piercing rough skin, a cheap imitation— a fake. We are so much alike only I'm lying when I say we are because she is pastel paint in coffee shops and I am crayola vandals on the sidewalk. And let's admit pretty isn't anything I would ever be. It makes me sick. Because I'm not like her. I'm never going to be just pretty; Pity, that's all they ever want us to be.
#beauty#superficial#likeness#insecurities#feminism#girls#selflove#pastel
jnellet
Written by
jnellet
22/F
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 11:13 AM UTC
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