Beautiful

IMG_2328

Lucky Lucky Lucky Me

“Don’t you know how lucky you are to have a beautiful beautiful beautiful body like that?”

Performed at the Handshake Poetry Slam organised by Word Forward, link to my performance can be found at the end of the poem.

The word ‘Beautiful’, when used on me is always a blanket. It is what the wolf tells its meal before it rips it apart. It is what the fox whispers to the chicken before it tears into its flesh. It is what people whisper to me, over and over and over again, until I can’t hear it anymore.

 

You are beautiful, he said, as he reached his arms around my waist. You are beautiful, he said, as his arms travelled further. You are beautiful

beautiful

beautiful

beautiful, he said, as his hands can no longer reach any further down, his hands move up, he reaches down my throat and he says that I am beautiful

beautiful

beautiful

beautiful

beautiful

beautiful see how it no longer sounds like a word. He reached further, down my esophagus, into my stomach, and I almost swallow the blood that gushed from my bleeding gums, my thrashing tongue, my entire body explodes in rejection of this foreign object, and yet he still says, you are beautiful

beautiful

                     beautiful.

It is funny how I try to fit the mold right, it is funny how I am only ‘beautiful’ when the fabric flutters against my knees, when the fabric leaves my legs feeling bare, naked, unprotected, unsafe. Why am I only beautiful when I don’t look like myself? I don’t mean to say that I don’t like dresses- Because at the end of the day, it is all just fabric.

Take off the pants and put on the paint, don’t you want to be beautiful, they ask, don’t you know that you’re supposed to be beautiful

  beautiful

                                  beautiful

beautiful don’t you know how lucky you are to have a face like that? Don’t you know how lucky you are to have a beautiful

beautiful

                                     beautiful

beautiful body like that?

 

I was supposed to be beautiful

beautiful

beautiful

I am trying to be beautiful. But the word is tainted, the word means nothing when heard too many times. I can’t believe the word because I don’t think the word describes me anymore.

One day, my lover whispered to me, he said “You are beautiful.” His hands were holding my face, tracing the jawline, gently gazing into my eyes and he whispers

“You are beautiful, how your face is temporary, how your body has curves that can straighten, how you change like seasons do. Beauty, the idea of it, the ideals formed of it, changes for every person, every era, every decade.

And you? You are beautiful, because you are changing, the idea of you, the ideals formed of you, changes for every era, every decade, because the decades and eras and even people they change with you. You are changing the world. And you are beautiful because you are the world.”

And for a second, I can almost believe him.

https://youtu.be/fEjMujbEz7k

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