"misshaping" poems
Moment,
A suicide letter I write in 8th grade.
I heat metal chains
with my straightener.
Press.
Watch as sink holes
begin to expand in my hand.
Maybe,
A list of considerations.
Starting to see the crimson crust,
the weeping sores,
furrowed skin,
the combust of myself as beautiful.
Mimic,
I think I am copying my mother.
She sinks into her sheets,
a mess soaking into a towel.
Us only speaking when she finds
something to yell about.
Maniac,
The day I forgot to wear long sleeves.
My mother takes my straightener,
metal chains, scissors, “You’re crazy”
Pens curler, pencils, I’m Crazy.
Maternal,
I try to find a mother in a therapist.
Scar cream fills the sink holes.
The left over sores only remind
me of the depressed image of ill bed sheets.
Moral,
Learning that misshaping myself
would never fix the sick in her voice.
Watching as my hand
Extinguished the charcoaled
Sores with new skin.
Memory,
Looking at my left hand
and the scars that have
become only small ashes
of a fire.
Only a moment.
©DelaneyMiller
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
Pinning my dignity against the wall
Like you deserve it?
I owe you nothing for the love you so carelessly misplaced.
Misshaping fractured components
Piece by piece in Hope's to create perfection reaching only finite limitations within this fragmented masterpiece or your so called love.
I break free and Grant you equal access.
For this masterpiece never had my signature
Jun 12, 2023
Jun 12, 2023 at 4:27 PM UTC