i have never begged to be loved
at least not in a way that I dig my nails
deep deep in my bare skin or-
shred the fine threads of veins
nor have I ever pulled the thread of my 4c hair
one that suffers health from the flattening iron
or hot combs or relaxer or whatever is enough for silkness
neither have I put a cigarette between my lips
cut out the burns on my most hated tattoos
yet I love my self way less than people who do.

i live in a city, where I am incriminated
enclosed to be a weirdo
as my fingertips tap tap away
same rhythm with my feet
humming down my throat songs I never sang to ears
first I wanted to be a dentist and I woke up to reality
it being I am just not smart enough
“I have a plan b”
a joke I tell about just finding a rich husband
yet I never want a man close enough to see the pores
on my bare skin
or my back
to cup my breast, to whisper words I never believe
nor for a drunk or a womanizer
one who is nothing but egotistic.
yet I’m a mess, a disaster I tell you



© Drunken2004