Don’t tell her she’s broken

She already knows it

The way her mind turns and turns and

The way she won’t show it

Don’t tell her she’s pretty

She’ll never believe it

She never wanted your pity

Doesn’t want to hear your bullshit

She broke her frame to make blades from those shards

Of shattered glass she obtained to your scars on her heart

She looks at herself in mirrors and hardly stand the reflection


She can see your perverted affection

Images in her mind

Develop unkind

Depictions overtime

And these

Unpleasant photos

Come out overexposed

So they are hidden


In shadows

She stuffed this all away as nonsense

Because she felt she had caused this

So she sat

And she bled her responses


Bigler Poem


Lindsay Grace is a New Orleans transplant with a deep love for stories. She considers herself to be just another person with a large collection of tea taking night classes.


Editor’s Note: Make sure you check out some of Big Easy Magazine’s previously featured poets!  Works by Julia Gene Taylor, Sharita Sims, Molly Kirschner and Caroline Greenberg are excellent places to start!

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