Qynn May 8
There is something disturbing in the scarcity of my name leaving your lips.

It comes in a whisper, in a hiss. It comes as mist on the wind. It comes, but never stays.

Is it necessary for me to lose control of the corners of my mouth, my throat bubbling in a giggle, when you finally say my name after two months?

As if it were something to be kept secret.
Qynn Apr 15
I want to have gardens on my arms
I want to carry pictures of all I have loved
and all I have lost

I want roses
and roses
and roses.
Qynn Apr 15
why is it that I must wait
for your apologies to me
to be coaxed out of you
by your friends

who somehow smell
who somehow see
who somehow taste my hurting

long after the words fall from your lips

and far before the “sorry” comes?
Qynn Apr 13
after sex
I read about self care
self healing
self love
to make up for the fact
that you will not hold me
you will not heal me
after wrecking both my body
and my expectations.
Qynn Apr 11
I know
my mother is not proud of me
when I change my hair
bejewel my face
or tell her about the newest boy.

I am my mother’s daughter,
and we have made so many of the same mistakes.

I hope
my mother is proud of me
when I get a nice job
in the tallest building in the city
wear nice clothes
and sell my soul
to become another piece
in the people’s machine.
Qynn Mar 28
what a wonder
to be comfortable in your own skin

and my body
scarred by every sin

what a life
to scorn the skin I’m living in.
Qynn Mar 25
the words that we grow to respect
from our mothers, our fathers
our older brothers and kin
are the same words we learn to resent
sowing seeds of doubt in fertile heads.
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