I feel ugly
so I cut my hair short
shorter
I try to forget I am a sexual being
because no one desires a woman with shorn locks
And as a woman in my 40’s
I would make a great spy or a serial killer
because I have ceased to be relevant
and no one notices me in crowds
or wants to hear my stories
about the men who did me wrong
So I move in the shadows
because darkness suits me
and I silence my voice
because words seem pointless
and I lie down and wait for the sound
of dirt hitting pine
Still histrionic, still a bookwhore; just faking competence because of my kid.
i've choked on my words for far too long
It's not the length of life, but the depth.
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Inky blackness, a yawning void ~
oh what's the point.
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Thank you! And thank you so much for reading!
I have written this narrative in so many ways. You describe the feeling of being forgotten.
It’s the way I feel most days, as if I move in the shadows.
*very well