Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
I wasn't raised as a lady with three brothers and a father to tie me down and beat sense into my girlish mind. But early illuminations brought dark realizations- as it seems a fool is favored. Feathered eyelids and buttered cheeks of these I knew nothing. Clumsy drugstore purchases to paint a face too young into beauty. The type they want to look at. Braces be gone! Glasses, so long! Sear these curls with an iron! So there, cursed mirror of murmurs!   The type they want to look at! Nay! He says that's not enough. And who am I to stop his hand spidering up my skirt. This is it. The type they want to touch. Wash your face off and all the scents and spots of whoever he was. Some are too deep, it seems they have seeped. *The type they want to **** You'll ruin your sheets if you cry like that- motherless infant. You cannot always need, you'll be the type they want to leave.
0
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 1:23 AM UTC
The Type
I wasn't raised as a lady with three brothers and a father to tie me down and beat sense into my girlish mind. But early illuminations brought dark realizations- as it seems a fool is favored. Feathered eyelids and buttered cheeks of these I knew nothing. Clumsy drugstore purchases to paint a face too young into beauty. The type they want to look at. Braces be gone! Glasses, so long! Sear these curls with an iron! So there, cursed mirror of murmurs!   The type they want to look at! Nay! He says that's not enough. And who am I to stop his hand spidering up my skirt. This is it. The type they want to touch. Wash your face off and all the scents and spots of whoever he was. Some are too deep, it seems they have seeped. *The type they want to **** You'll ruin your sheets if you cry like that- motherless infant. You cannot always need, you'll be the type they want to leave.
Written by
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 1:23 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem