I have words in my mind,
But I am silenced.
I am repressed.
By the two orbs of adipose tissue that rest atop my chest.
I am silenced.
It is a name I carry, fertile like the womb beneath the belt
that I use to measure how much adoration I deserve by the number of notches I move past before I hook it shut.
1. 2. 3.
For I am measured not by the height of my success but by the numbers on my doctor’s scale.
Not by the brilliance of my mind but the brilliance of the shine of the diamond that should be on my left hand.
By the way, where is that diamond?
The skin around my fourth metacarpophalangeal joint is looking a little bare.
It could use a ribbon around it - silver or gold, I’m not picky.
Or maybe it should be of the fabric of society,
To match the ribbon around my neck that looks less of a necklace and more of a noose.
But I’m reassured, “No,” they tell me, “it’s a necklace.”
And luckily for me it matches every outfit I own.
But I am silenced.
I am repressed.
By the two orbs of adipose tissue that rest atop my chest.
I am silenced.
It is a name I carry, fertile like the womb beneath the belt
that I use to measure how much adoration I deserve by the number of notches I move past before I hook it shut.
1. 2. 3.
For I am measured not by the height of my success but by the numbers on my doctor’s scale.
Not by the brilliance of my mind but the brilliance of the shine of the diamond that should be on my left hand.
By the way, where is that diamond?
The skin around my fourth metacarpophalangeal joint is looking a little bare.
It could use a ribbon around it - silver or gold, I’m not picky.
Or maybe it should be of the fabric of society,
To match the ribbon around my neck that looks less of a necklace and more of a noose.
But I’m reassured, “No,” they tell me, “it’s a necklace.”
And luckily for me it matches every outfit I own.