Artificial Cherry Hand Lotion
The house, the key
my body, broken,
Heart
a nervous beating.
I am a child
so scared
her nails dig into my arm
Why can’t you be pretty?
like your sister
You look like a boy.
But I’m not a boy.
no
Her perfume…
chokes me.
I fantasize about her death.
I would wear a beautiful sun dress.
Everyone would cry.
But I would smile.
And spit on her face.
…
asking her why, why
she’s not pretty.
like me
**Punctuation and spacing are huge for me in terms of how the poem looks aesthetically and reads. This one has been in the depths of my mind for awhile… maybe that’s why it’s so dark.