i am so tired of
my wrists being a battlefield —
the shrines for all the times i fell —
they all keep falling apart,
and nothing lasts long enough
for all these wounds
to turn into scars.

maybe the problem is that scars mean you're healing.
maybe the problem is that i'm not.

i have worn this skin away —
long shunned by softness
and each day, i cannot fathom how
i can ever manage to hold gentle things —
press them against my chest
when everything i hold
bleeds and breaks,
including me.

i wish my tongue was more made for poems
and not for dry-swallowed poppies;
the moon flinches at the very sight.

i flinch too.

and i am so tired of my entire skin
being a battlefield
when no one can see the casualties
buried quickly —
buried well.

and oh, what i'd give to be
soft enough to grow flowers on graveyards —
and soft enough not to break myself.

Mummy used to buy me hair grease,
for my hair was a seismic wave of crease.
The scalp crying sweat,
the tantrums were the onset.

Wide tooth comb have mercy on the nots,
nests of lies and cheeky clots.
The flurries of dandruff deposit,
the skeletons in the closet.

Mummy brought out the blue magic,
the long strands thirsty to become ethic.
Such a wave of moisture,
like the silkiness of an oyster.

A perfect layer of braided Cornrows,
blended amongst the tropical mangoes.

Mummy says to me you’re a woman now,
be prepared and ready to plough,
the knotty hairs of your little ones.

Go and buy the same hair grease,
to ensure their naughty traits mature into peace.

Justine Louisy

Copyright ©Justine Louisy 2016
All Rights Reserved

I've been trying to fill a void
It's gruesome work really
So many ******* Polaroids
With nothing to see really

I still don't remember when
This dark empty whole appeared
I just remember you left, then
He sat there, as if he'd been here

At least the night, she holds stars
This presence, sits next to me
Smoking cigarettes, eating bars
I think it too wants to forget me

He's even tried to swallow me whole
Taking over every single blood cell
I was so drunk, he almost had my soul
I couldn't do anything, but ******* yell

Now he just sits next to me
Trying again...
Every other sad week

If only you could hear,
All these words that I’ve discovered
Written upon the walls of my mind,
Disappearing at the wake of light.