Skip to main content

Sad Is Not Sexy by R.I.D

“

his fingers are cold on the white ridges of my hipbones. scar territory, flinch territory, missed-the-sad but-found-the-blood territory. he says, “girls like you are so hot,” and his breath is the desert wind, is a sun i cannot run from, is a waterless river, “you messy ones are always the best ones in bed,” and i actually almost laugh at it
last night while the rest of the world was asleep i was lying awake counting slowly back from one thousand hoping that this time i would find the strength to say no to the darkness
i am pretty for an ugly girl. i am cute for someone so broken. i am almost worth the high-maintenance, the texts i send in desperation, the food i won’t touch that you spent hours making, the fact i push away literally all of my friends
girls like me are so hot. we are red dwarf stars. we are burning up in the sky of your sheets. we will do anything just to stop thinking. we are open fires, we are the forest turning to ashes. we have destroyed everything close to us because it’s better that way and we never deserved it in the first place. we have ruined our lives because it’s all we seem to know how to do. girls like me are so hot. we are hungry hands that search over our bodies, picking at soft places. we are eyes that cannot cry, not for lack of wanting. we are a high noon that never ends, we are shaking, we are barely able to form a fist but we still beat ourselves with it.
i want to tell him, don’t touch me. don’t look at me. you don’t get to make my pain into something sexy. you don’t get to see me as that one chick you banged when you wanted something a little dangerous. you don’t get to tell your buddies that you played with the night sky herself and you feel really good about it. don’t touch me without knowing the name of my shadow. don’t look at me unless you are willing to understand my world. don’t act like sadness is a tight dress. i’m not distant because i want to be. i am distant because i am a supernova, and my entire soul is burning.
i push his hands back. i say: there are stories in my fingertips you will never read.
he lights a cigarette, chuckles, says, “can’t help that i like my girls crazy.”

by R.I.D

Labels

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A love letter to my home village Kasane.

Dear Favorite place.  I'm coming home in december.  It has been four years but  I remember the way the green of the north is different from the green of the south.  The air is cooler up there right at the corner of Botswana.  My dad called today and said " Hi pumpkin, I'm in the middle of nowhere right in that corner of Botswana"  and I knew he was almost home.  And I know its 1000 Kilometers of not quite so tarred road.  And just 45 minutes of flight away.  But I'll take the long way.  So I can see it outside my window as I get closer.  You see just after francistown you can't really tell.  But right after Nata the worst part of the road you can tell you're in the Chobe.  You can smell it in the air. You can see it in that northern Green you Don't get anywhere else.  And you can see it in the white sands.  By now the elephants have come to play.  I can always tell ...
Post a Comment
Read more

WITHERING ROSES

We're like withering roses me and you. This relationship isn't big enough for the both of us. It’s sad that some people suffocate in love or somewhere between it. Someone asked me what being in love feels like. I can't remember. All I remember is the consuming fear of losing you. Remind me darling.   I hate it when scars fade. That's when I forget all the burns, cuts and bruises. That's when I fall into your arms, forgetting that their safety once suffocated me.   That you once wept as you watched your too tight grasp leave me gasping and clawing at you.   Too selfish and scared to let go just a little. They won't stop asking why I won't leave you.   I've resolved to answering, "I'm a poet. What would I write about if not being in love with a man that thinks I'm pathetic" But we both know it’s nice to come back and be a mess again. I told you you're a lucky man. I didn't tell you I'm a lucky woman too. Ma...
Post a Comment
Read more

Dear Captain Fantastic,

They're a number of love stories I've told but never ours. It's my favorite one.  Its the only one that ends without a sour taste in my mouth. The only one I still pray for. I pray for you. Did you know? Do you ever hear my prayers? I pray the way mother's pray for their children and women pray for their husbands. Prayer is a woman's best firearm is something my mother says. I don't think she meant for me to use all my Ammo protecting you. I don't think she meant for me to pray for you so hard. But, I find sanity in knowing that even in the moments when  I choose myself over loving you God will love you for me. In the moments when you would look to me look to him. I'm not nearly responsible to hold your heart in my hands without dropping it. I fear I already have, but I want you to know. All these years later, All these boys later, ' All these scars later, there's not a smile in the world that warms my heart more than yours....
Post a Comment
Read more