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."


"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."


"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."


"Because, I love you."



This poem is about: 
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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