Saturday, November 20

the pale whale adoration unadornment hour

to smell my own perfume only makes me sad.
this familiarity, precious to few,
this line of sight, so fit to breathe
by me, reminiscent of a hold i've never had.

the bathtub fills and i melt in.
i can't stay strong. i can't stay mad.
perhaps my lips are thicker now,
my hips stick out like guppy fins.

my pink thighs half-float;
i would rather not please you. i am plain
and salt-swollen. i am myself again
and there is no choice but to accept.

i am the crown beauty of the bath,
belly-up, freckle-skinned and fat.
every time i close my eyes i glimpse the end.
my puffy face-i wash- let the glitter down the drain.
i make my own standards, i make my own rain.
there is no longer a necessity to pretend.

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