(Maybe it is true that I am an ugly girl.
An inconsistent, selfish woman.)
There is a mirror in the corner and it is watching.
There is a mirror in the corner
and it is a tape recorder. Your step-father will know everything.
I look at my chin in the mirror and see it is too big. Too big for you to love me. Not big enough to keep you from fucking me but definitely too big to keep you from holding my hand on the street. I am a simple and inconsistent woman and such an ugly girl to boot! It’s true! Don’t argue, it only makes you look stupid. And every now and then stupid is worse than ugly. Ask anybody. My sister and I learned early that the best thing we could ever do is win the love of a man. Our mother beat it in to us with her big curls and big lips. Her big lips all done up in Yummy Plummy lipstick. Don’t forget your push-up bra. I was never beautiful when I was around her. Who would have thought so? Look at her. Look at her lips and her hair and how tall and thin. That isn’t me. That was my mother. I didn’t even come close. And then she died. It wrecked my eyes and my heart and all of my soft, aching insides.
I look at this man
his blond hair
and think don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry
Such big, beautiful words falling
from his big, knowing hands. Hands
that have turned so many
pages of the sacrosanct and
fell so gently upon
the nipples of so many
How I ache!
How I ache!
Where are you? Where are you now?
When there is nothing I’d love better than to waste away below the sweat of an angry hand.
Let me shy away from your gaze. I want to feel afraid of you. I want to be crass below your touch, say all the horrible words that embarrass me later in the day and cry your name out against your tangled sheets. I want your fist in my hair. I want your cock up my ass. I want you to slap my face and smile against my hot cheek. I see myself becoming a corpse and so I want to get fucked as hard and often as I can. You seem like a man who might see the necessity of all this.
It’s been so long since I’ve cried in front of anyone.
as always, critique is welcome. angelasimione at gmail dot com
i want to be good at this.