Going to an all girls school, the one thing that kept us outside the gates of adulthood was chain linked inside our mouths Braces made us all feel like we were made of rusted nails and anything that said we couldn’t be touched
The day a classmate had her braces removed was the day she became a woman **** a bat mitzvah or a period An inviting smile gleaming like ivory castles in a new Facebook profile picture meant she became everything that was glory
By my junior year, I was the only one left with a mouth brimming full of metal I was just as awkward as my smile Grew so accustomed to feeling alone in a sea of crowded that I let myself become faceless Avoided school dances because I was convinced my skin didn’t want to be held But in all of this, I ironically felt small for the first time the day my braces came off
Felt myself sink in the abundance of “Oh my god, you’re so pretty now” On a date with my middle school crush, he licked the ridges of my teeth as we kissed Told me I became “so hot” by senior year This was when I realized for the past 8 years no one had ever touched me with purpose As if the day my teeth became aligned with everyone’s idea of beauty then I was worthy of being stared at
Suddenly, modeling agencies wanted to freeze frame all the firefly sun bleeding out my face My mouth became so fuckable boys would tell me how good I’d be at swallowing all of them Girls, became nothing but the chatter of crows telling people pretty was all my womanly bones were good for
I started wanting to pull out my teeth, one by one, hang them around my neck then ask: “How much of a wishing well does my smile look to you now?” So, don’t call me pretty Call my mouth ****** Call me an open wound made of honesty I am everything mangled and crooked I am everything vicious I am the gap in my teeth headgear couldn’t fix Tell me I am a broken violin bow when I speak my mind I’ll tell you to shut up as I become a symphony of graceless rage My words a deliverance of God’s best sermon My soul is the brightest firework your open hands can try catching but never will
When we’re taught as girls that the only thing to aspire to as a woman is having a desirable face It makes my body want to wrap itself in all that is ugly So don’t ever call me pretty As if my smile burning golden like its own sun depended on your compliments I have always been night sky crawling her way to morning I have drowned here I have survived here I am nothing but a holy resurrection of self love standing before you knee deep in past insecurities So, Remember that the next time you want to compliment me and call me miracle instead
I have been writing. Just not on here. Here you guys go.