Artificial Cherry Hand Lotion

The house, the key

my body, broken,

Heart

a nervous beating.

I am a child

so scared

her nails dig into my arm

Why can’t you be pretty?

like your sister

You look like a boy.

But I’m not a boy.

no

Her perfume…

chokes me.

I fantasize about her death.

I would wear a beautiful sun dress.

Everyone would cry.

But I would smile.

And spit on her face.

…

asking her why, why

she’s not pretty.

like me

**Punctuation and spacing are huge for me in terms of how the poem looks aesthetically and reads. This one has been in the depths of my mind for awhile… maybe that’s why it’s so dark.