Pretty Pieces

When I was eight years old, I wanted to wear makeup:

Bright red lipstick like my aunt wore to leave kiss marks on every cup I drank from.

But daddy said, "no baby, wear all the cherry Chapstick you want

but don’t cover up your pretty face."

"Why?"

"Because, I love you."

 

When I was fourteen years old, I wanted to wear my feelings:

Bright red lines from the blade that kissed my thighs for every trait that I hated.

But my best friend said, "no baby, cry all you need to and scream at the sky

but don't tear up your pretty body."

"Why?"

"Because, I love you."

 

When I was seventeen years old, I wanted to wear the popularity:

Bright red bows and pom-poms, blowing mindless kisses to crowds at the game.

But my boyfriend said, "no love, have school spirit and cheer for the team

but don't give up your pretty personality."

"Why?"

"Because, I love you."

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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