My tongue (poem #166)

My tongue feels a little too big for my mouth today,
So I slip my tongue ring out
Look at the hole that is there…
and wonder if it reflex the hole in my heart from when I got it.
I don’t get my piercings because I hated myself I got them to feel unique.
Needles made me feel more important and like myself in my own skin that I ever could. It’s sad to say that I had to add artwork to porcelain to feel like the beautiful girl I was born as.
When I asked I admit I had an eating disorder,
before brushing over the fact that before includes yesterday.
I starve myself not for attention but to feel accepted in my own skin.
I don’t feel welcome in my body,
the stretch marks are pinpoints of foreign lands.
I’m just trying to navigate in a world with the map of my body,
but my compass is upside down.
I forgot how to read directions when they started with “10 easy steps to…”,
cosmopolitan gave me guides on how to get lost,
men claim to have found me,
but I’m still standing here stranded in the branches of my rib-cage.
I’ve told myself enough times that being lost is ok,
it just means you haven’t reach your destination,
but I still feel like the little girl who put on makeup too soon so she wouldn’t recognize the flaws she once saw as constellations.
I don’t hide behind my body, I hide in it,
I put jewelry and art out as a gallery to distract you from the cracks in the walls.
When asked if I know that I am beautiful,
I respond does beauty start with starvation and end with pain because if so I have felt beautiful for year,
but if it doesn’t please leave me alone because i don’t want to find out what beautiful means anymore because I know I wouldn’t recognize it.
My tongue feels too big for my mouth today,
so I slide the metal between my teeth to feel whole again.
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Nothing will suffice (Poem #125)

There are no amount of pain killers,

Alcohol,

Or weed,

That can mask this breaking heart.

No time,

Narcotic,

Or hallucinogen

That can overpower the darkness that is losing your love.

No words,

No signs of affection,

Or self inflicted wounds,

That will make create answers as to how you fell out of love.

You became the beat to my heart,

The air to my lungs,

The breath to my life,

And now all you are is a void nothing will fill…