human zombie; wearing complexity
they’re no windows, they’re hauntings; with a brown eye wandering and a hollow one crying: hello? can anyone see me? it’s mocking. and lips that curve to curiosity, lipstick flavored silence because i refuse prying, it’s overbearing. empty thoughts are screaming: nobody kisses innocent lips, nobody tries when there’s nothing worth gaining. traveling gaze to broad shoulders (skip over the corner lip birthmark, it’s hideous i know). collar bone sticks out (corpse’s pride); no hiding a crooked spine; necklaces can’t cover up bone, but when best friend gives a necklace, there’s no denying the beautiful memory of it. yet, scoliosis whispers: you’re short, slouching, messed up- no one wants genetic deficiency. sealed mentions on jumping into skinny jeans or how crop tops don’t fit right. yet hear mundane craving for the skin color you don’t have.
took over a decade, coming to terms with being mixed and the labeling question of what are you? not to hurt the way it did (what kind of question is that? as if the color of my skin was a what and a right to know by all those who witness it?).
hidden; i keep it all hidden. i live in sweats and shirts that leave tans; with whale necklaces from the beach as my hometown mocks it; semi-popular shoes since they’re cute and combat boots whenever i know there’s no one there, as though it’s an invitation to mock them. with hair falling from the scalp a cadaver can’t even compare, but one notices because mother said it’s all an exaggeration in my head; soon the curls that bounce down my back, will fall to my shoulders and it’ll turn the color my heart bleeds whenever i think of him. what’s the name of a style raised on the coast, lives in the midwest, travels to cities, yet longs for the place to call home?
it’s like this: staring in a mirror there’s the human zombie covered up in complexity. never desired being pretty, just perhaps beautiful to somebody. self-worth, a bitter-sweet word, tasted it a couple years ago: i know i’m not ugly, but there’s always room to improve. the best feeling in the world is when someone mentions your looks and heart positively, never forcefully.