sometimes i think of the girl i used to be
in terms of fish hooks
all these little barbs stuck in my skin
in terms of needles
an arm covered in scars
and two twin lines that i have been
waiting for more than half my life
but those are the parts of this
body that i can change
from the outside in
each one making this she
that still resides inside of me
even more of a ghost
and i can feel her in the dead of night
she comes to me and
runs cold fingers through my short hair
and it’s like she’s thanking me
for finally burying the girl corpse
that i have been carrying on my back
like a ghost that refuses to be exorcised
but sometimes i still feel so haunted
by what this girl self could have been
and she is there again
speaking in a voice that mine hasn’t sounded
like for months and months
and she says it’s okay
because i made it
and that’s all she ever wanted
-
Author:
Boaz Priestly (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 10th, 2018 00:09
- Category: Letter
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: Aislinn Wilson
Offline)
Comments1
You're writing style is really unlike any I've ever seen before, and it's so very vivid and fluid.
Thank you for saying that. I never really thought that my personal style of writing was all the unique. Mainly just loud, angry, and queer. Which, coincidentally, is what I am 100% of the time. (In all seriousness, this comment means a lot to me as a writer).
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