I could pretend you an orifice --
but I guarantee you'd try
to open me up in hulahoop stitches.
and
to be honest, I'm rarely honest
with myself.
I feel like a bloodclot swims
an everyday path through my brain,
weighting down what I thought
was getting better.
what I thought could
take a backseat to
university action and
awayfromhomesickness.
but really,
I feel like a failure in my
own corpse, too heavy in the
thighs to really make a difference.
is it really true what they say?
is there really
someone else
who wants to
napalm
epidermal limbs and set fire
to the sweat glistening like
oil on a kitchen stove?
I could reap you a story of
a boy tracing curves with
soft hands and revolving
intentions --
itfuckinghurts when Tiffany glasses
shatter like my pride as you lift my
shirt; I could
pretend you an orifice
to avoid feeling uncomfortable
with my own,
and sometimes,
I do.
I really do.
-- but I could also mention
how much she hates the
stretchmarks floating
on skin that's never
given birth.
Author notes
prompt: "What ails the truth is that it is mainly uncomfortable and often dull. The human mind seeks something more amusing and more caressing." - H.L. Mencken.
writing this down hurt more than feeling it initially.
it's over the line limit (I think 43 written lines, if I counted correctly), so by all means DQ if necessary.
A contest entry
- uncomfortable truth. by sharptooth.
500 points, ended September 22, 9 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
this is great.
i really liked the original imagery.
not once did i see anything about "stars" or "space" and i thank you for that.
my favorite part:
"and to be honest, i'm rarely honest with myself."
i know that feeling too much.
great job.
this is amazing.
i'm so glad i decided to read this.

-
43 lines is okay - mainly because you let me know you knew it was over the line limit. and half of those lines are short, so you're fine.

i loveeed this line:
and
to be honest, I'm rarely honest
with myself.
i'm rarely honest with myself either.
this was powerfully written, and i loved your narrative voice.
thanks for entering! -
enthrawling!


-
Jessica. I love you.





