My skin has shed with the seasons
like I’m taking off a retired old jacket
when I take off my clothes
I feel like I’m opening like a flower
especially if somebody is in front of me
I’m pulling back the curtains
inviting someone inside
but when they say
“how beautiful are you?”
it means nothing to me
nothing, at all
nothing, anymore.
I wrote this poem to encapsulate the feeling of being used, and the subsequent effects of it. Such a complicated feeling, but I think it is a good challenge to try and form words to describe it :) This poem was inspired by the other works of poetry that I’m reading, as well as music, of course. I’m used to putting myself in a creative bubble and not branching out to other kinds of poetry — just letting things flow and not thinking too hard about the logistics of it.
A few things in the works, I’m reading a beautiful book of poetry written by the infamous Leonard Cohen — I plan to write an in depth review of my thoughts about it. Besides that, I’ll continue to write poetry and possibly even another album review :)
There is a reason why all things are as they are. I want you to believe…. to believe in things you cannot - Count Dracula
