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Ireland Payne Poem
Mama says
I’m beautiful
I’m smart
I’m loved
If this is true
Then why don’t you like me, mama?
How can you hurt me?
How can you face it with empty apologies?
“You aren’t skinny like those girls on TV”
“That shirt makes you look fat.”
“Why can’t you be normal?!”
But why should it matter, mama?
Why should I care?
Nothing hurts me more
Than when you look at me
And tell me that I’ve gained weight
That if I dress like that
no guy is going to like me
That you don’t like me
Because of who I am
I’m either your joyous religious daughter
Or a confused minuscule apostate
But when I try to plead
You consume my speech with irrationality
Your body responds with
“Have you been taking your medication?”
Almost like I can’t have my own ideas
Without my mental illness speaking for me
Mama, you never speak with your mind
I either am
Too much or not enough
Too skinny or too fat
Too happy or too sad
Rational or crazy
mama, can you hear me?
I have a woman’s body
I love who I love
I believe what I believe
And I will not apologize for that
It’s who I became
Because of you
So how can you make me feel this overwhelming guilt?
This love, this style, our differences
You’re the one who blessed me with these immaculate properties
So how can you feel so terribly about the person I am?
These questions aren’t out of confusion, ignorance, disrespect, or misunderstanding.
I just wish you’d think with your mind rather your body
To think about these things
These terrible things you say to me
I’ve lived with this for years
the guilt you forced upon me
But why can’t I feel this hurt without it being about your trauma?
But this is how they trick us, mama
How they keep us silent
But I refuse to be quiet anymore
I want to love without feeling guilty
Without you seeing me as just another confused queer
I want to be a sexual being
Without you thinking of me as another easy harlot
I want you to see me as more than my sexuality
That you still see me as your daughter
My sexuality does not define who I am, mama
And it’s nobody’s business but mine
I don’t owe you an explanation, mama
But mama says
I’m beautiful
I’m smart
I’m loved
But if this is true, mama
I need you to believe me
I need you to have my back
But mama,
Can you hear me?
Copyright © Ireland Payne | Year Posted 2020
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Details |
Ireland Payne Poem
tonight is that purple room.
i look at the shadow of my bedside
and pretend they are you.
i reach my palms over to hold them
until the entirety of my hand
is engulfed within them.
i guess what I've been trying to say is
you swallow me whole.
your voice on the other line
is sewn into my atrium.
that July night when you whispered
of the happiness i gave you
now breaks like empty bottles
leaving glass shards sticking
out of your throat and
entering my bloodstream.
i keep finding our failures
discovering our fault lines and
pulling at the broken wires.
i cant stop touching your place
in my mind like a scab that
will never be given the chance to heal.
i keep staring at the love
you wrenched out of me.
the way you left my heart hanging
out of my chest like decaying fruit.
because i don't want to forget you.
i don't want this to become a "last August."
i know you are not all awful.
i know we all struggle.
for the same acceptance.
and sometimes we lack
the self confidence to unleash
the constellations in our chests.
so here i am with this stupid pen
and this stupid poem.
always loving you.
always bringing you back
from the dead.
always thinking of last august
when you burned me like carbon but
touched me like emeralds.
always remembering somewhere.
somewhere in June when your hands
and the air felt warm against my cold skin
and i found a home in your twisted spine.
but the honest truth is
i don't remember
how your skin feels anymore.
the pain in my chest
is all i know how to hold onto.
Copyright © Ireland Payne | Year Posted 2020
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