Dress Up

I’m writing this poem

in lipstick I don’t wear,

on a mirror I won’t look in.

I’m adding color to a reflection

I haven’t seen in years,

cherry red lips you’ll never kiss,

a fictional existence,

the side of me no one will recognize,

painting a lie on the illusion,

playing pretend like the princess

trying on mommy’s clothes.


Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, now available on amazon.

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My Body

My body / tells me / I should be ashamed / of how I treat it / That I should not / be allowed / to own it / if I cannot / take care of it / I smile / apologize / promising / to try harder / Promise / to stop tearing my skin to shreds / Promise / to stop licking bombshells / promise / to leave the injuries to someone / other than myself / This was / six years ago / three years ago / six months ago / This was / recent past / past nonetheless / I spend the present / apologizing / to everything / I put it through / We may never / have a healthy relationship / but my guilt runs deep / My body / knows / I am sorry / every time / I look / in the mirror / judge / what I have turned it into / a piece of art / sculpted / into something / I am unable / to admire / I am unable / to see / the beauty in.


Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, now available on amazon.