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
Still
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
Shamefully
In shadows
She stuffed this all away as nonsense
Because she felt she had caused this
So she sat
And she bled her responses
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!
