You’re Highness
1.
I, silent, watch you and ‘the boys’
and my nostrils burn.
I forget you are my turtle.
I despise your amazing God.
My skin launches off,
I’m crumbling crusts again.
So I am left. I sit, certain,
jealous I don’t know
how to spell ‘success’.
2.
My nostrils burn, He is taking up
too much of my beloved’s bed.
I am called ‘your’ girl
And I have to wonder
if you wish- do you wish?-
that my waist was more baby suited?
I am not the dirt of your past.
Your mouth let me in, but now
I want out. Your shell is cracked.
I’m surrounded by only your pink,
that horrid pink that is praised.
I want a coffee and a conversation,
but you’re out of both.
(this is copyrighted as property of me and jacket magazine by the way...)
this and others are at www.jacketmagazine.com
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