poem about a girl trying to be sweet to become appealing to a boy |
you never ever called me sweet, so i glazed my skin with sugar. it crusted over my scabbed and scarring wrists and…oh. it burnsandburnsandburns. like hell, but then again…i love the pain. that’s why i love you, right? you never ever called me sweet, so i took a syringe to my sugar-frosted skin and injected myself with thick, sticky syrups. right there, right in my too small veins that rope around my wrists like thin strips of blue licorice, right fucking there. now i am bloated and somewhat beautiful with all the sweetness that runs through my blood. you never ever called me sweet, so i painted my face with frosting, dipped my tongue in chocolate, slicked my hair with caramel, and snorted all of the powdered sugar that i could, only to have you run your tongue against my sugar-sweet ear and whisper in a tone just dripping with honey, “i never liked ‘em sweet.” “you never loved me when i was sour or bitter or bland either.” “no matter what, sweetie,” he breathed, inhaling my saccharine skin, “i will never love you.” (it’s the first truth you’ve ever told me, and the only truth i never wanted to hear.) |