* inspired by florence + the machine's "shipwreck"
It always begins this way,
in haunting silences and dismay
my love for you - so ever abundant,
but for myself - never a moment.
You see, to love myself would
mean to accept the pitfuls of
my grace. The dance my eyelids
make when i sleep, is treacherous.
My limbs shake when i dance,
i look awkward when i cry. How
can i build
myself
up
if i'm always breaking down?
and then I wonder, did i build
this ship to wreck? Do i crash
mercilessly into shores with
waves that are powerful but
my anger and isn't justified.
relentless anxieties swirl in
rock pools that never drain
completely.
did i build this ship to wreck?
are the very fundamentals of my
existence flawed, form the moment
i got my first stretch mark? or my first
freckle that formed and now serves
as a sign of prominence pertaining to
my lack of beauty?
The meek surrender but
the bleak just barely survive.
YOU ARE READING
Blackberry Thistles ✓
Poetrypoems as delicate as the fruit itself, and as thought-provoking as the sour aftertaste. All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2019 Kate H. > third place winner of the gem-mers awards poetry section 2020
