When did it happen
When did you steal my shameless generosity in giving away parts of my soul
When did you silence my voice
So slowly and subtly, so deliberately
Until you stole word by word off my tongue
When did you scrape that tongue “clean”
Clean of its origin
Clean of its ties
Clean of its stubborn
When did you rob me of my ugly whimsy that i was never ashamed off
Rub shame all over my face like mud
When did you straighten up my spine
Straighten up my teeth, unasked and ungentle
When did you paint my lips in the color of polite and reserved
Interesting just enough, never beyond
Pretty and invisible
The perfect chameleon, you swear you don’t see me
And laugh
Your eyes shine with pride and satisfaction
You barely notice I was there, and I poke you
You praise my delicate touch
I **** my finger like its paper cut
And taste the blood, more rotten than metallic
I could swear its not even red if I don’t look at it
Tell me, do you like her?
Does she satisfy your craving
Does she check the boxes
Cross the list
Pull the trigger?
I knew her name once but I don’t know what she goes by now
She sounded lovely, always loud, her voice a bright yellow canvas
But now she croaks in purple and blue
I knew her name once, her name in your mouth was my favorite song
And her once vibrant dresses are now grey and navy, her least favorite emotions
When did you redesign her tongue
And blot out her soul with concealer,
beautify it with mascara and lipstick
Lipstick that refuses to sit on her lips
Lips that never pout, always smile
Always singing in monochrome
Always painting in alien
Moving in flawless
When did you teach her that being flawed is a sin
And that being an individual is a flaw
When did you erase her,
feed her shame for breakfast
and guilt for dinner
That her crime is in aesthetic
And her little spark of a soul is arson,
better off as cremated ashes in a teacup
A slaughter to perception that belongs in a grave
A cage in a mirror.
I stare in the mirror for hours each day,
Trying to solve the mystery
The disappearance of her
The disappearance of me
My tongue tied and clean
My voice weak and unprovocative
My words brushed off in indifference
I rewind the tape and listen for clues
I erased her
I’m the culprit
I try to look for the exact moment that it happened
When did it happen?
Nov 14, 2025
Nov 14, 2025 at 10:33 AM UTC
When did it happen
When did you steal my shameless generosity in giving away parts of my soul
When did you silence my voice
So slowly and subtly, so deliberately
Until you stole word by word off my tongue
When did you scrape that tongue “clean”
Clean of its origin
Clean of its ties
Clean of its stubborn
When did you rob me of my ugly whimsy that i was never ashamed off
Rub shame all over my face like mud
When did you straighten up my spine
Straighten up my teeth, unasked and ungentle
When did you paint my lips in the color of polite and reserved
Interesting just enough, never beyond
Pretty and invisible
The perfect chameleon, you swear you don’t see me
And laugh
Your eyes shine with pride and satisfaction
You barely notice I was there, and I poke you
You praise my delicate touch
I **** my finger like its paper cut
And taste the blood, more rotten than metallic
I could swear its not even red if I don’t look at it
Tell me, do you like her?
Does she satisfy your craving
Does she check the boxes
Cross the list
Pull the trigger?
I knew her name once but I don’t know what she goes by now
She sounded lovely, always loud, her voice a bright yellow canvas
But now she croaks in purple and blue
I knew her name once, her name in your mouth was my favorite song
And her once vibrant dresses are now grey and navy, her least favorite emotions
When did you redesign her tongue
And blot out her soul with concealer,
beautify it with mascara and lipstick
Lipstick that refuses to sit on her lips
Lips that never pout, always smile
Always singing in monochrome
Always painting in alien
Moving in flawless
When did you teach her that being flawed is a sin
And that being an individual is a flaw
When did you erase her,
feed her shame for breakfast
and guilt for dinner
That her crime is in aesthetic
And her little spark of a soul is arson,
better off as cremated ashes in a teacup
A slaughter to perception that belongs in a grave
A cage in a mirror.
I stare in the mirror for hours each day,
Trying to solve the mystery
The disappearance of her
The disappearance of me
My tongue tied and clean
My voice weak and unprovocative
My words brushed off in indifference
I rewind the tape and listen for clues
I erased her
I’m the culprit
I try to look for the exact moment that it happened
When did it happen?