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Krystin Douglas Poem
His kisses leave a bitter taste
His hugs leave me cold
His words cut as false hope
Only with him I want to cope
But I Resent you
But my heart longs for you
I die from anxiety
I die by blood
Mark of the beast
and the beast is me
only ready to set my dying soul free
let me die with a punctured heart
and eat it while it’s pure for start
Soon they gather in my name
To celebrate my life but I lived it in pain
I loved but I loved him in vain
play my scars like a piano
sing my mind like a soprano
draw out my memories like Egyptians
capture my blood and use it as my diction
save my womb and give it to a virgin
so she shall bare my half because I wasn’t whole
Let her be pure for that was my goal
Until he laid me on my back and stroked ...
Stroked his ego why of course
Breaking my heart with time
Showing no remorse
he cannot speak at my farewell
He shall sit with the rest that hurt me as well
No one shall speak they don’t deserve
They’re the reason I’ll lie in dirt
Copyright © Krystin Douglas | Year Posted 2022
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Krystin Douglas Poem
Dear God,
Why am I like this?
I look back.
I look back at Egypt.
Looking back feeds my ego.
Lots wife and I carry no Comparison.
I don’t miss Egypt.
I look back just to see if Egypt is falling away.
Does Egypt see me?
See me here in the Land of milk and honey?
Too embarrassed to say that I have yet to discover that very milk and honey.
Too embarrassed to admit that after my exodus I have to make another grand escape.
Yet this escape would now be within.
I wonder if Egypt is miserable?
But so am I.
At least Egypt offered stability at the cost of slavery.
Now that Im free stability isn’t.
It cost.
It requires much.
The price is what I can’t afford as of right now.
The price tag says;
“Self discipline, consistency,drive,patience,long suffering, endurance, healing, death.”
Death?
A price I thought I paid in Egypt.
I just wish I could burn the entire existence of Egypt out my mind.
But without it, there would be no me now.
Does Egypt regret mistreating me?
Does the abuse relapse in their mind?
What if Egypt has forgotten about me and it’s my soul that is still enslaved?
I don’t miss Egypt.
Just part of me wishes Egypt would say…admit that if they could turn back the time to make things right they would.
To finally give me the chance to tell them “if going back to Egypt was wrong I would gladly choose to be right.”
If I had the power to turn back time I simply wouldn’t.
I may not be exactly where I want to be but being away from you is all I ever wanted.
All the pain may have almost driven me to an early grave but here I stand in between this parted sea.
That the God of Israel separated just for me.
This is my exodus.
And as I walk through this Red Sea,
I’ll look back just to see the waves of this ocean, crush you in and bring you to a sink.
I’ll look back with a smile.
To reassure God that he did the right thing.
Yes this wilderness is killing.
It’s killing the you that was inside of me.
The fire burns but it’s refining.
Staying or leaving both have an extreme price to pay.
However, leaving has given me the better opportunity to be everything God has called for me to be.
Not perfect but his love makes me whole.
And now from Egypt I call fourth all of my soul.
Copyright © Krystin Douglas | Year Posted 2024
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Krystin Douglas Poem
Curtain Call
(is an audience-led call for a performer or performers to return to the stage after a performance, typically in response to applause.)
The curtains open.
And there I am — on this stage.
Out on display.
Trying to obtain your love
and Grace.
Makeup to highlight my face.
Girdle to shape my waist.
Theater with seats filled.
Mommy,
Daddy,
family,
friends,
you.
Sitting front and center.
Still trying to figure out your sender.
In the meantime…
Let me show you my tricks —
my infamous skills —
all those
“look mommy”
“look daddy”
spaces that went unfulfilled.
You smile.
You laugh.
Your enjoyment is my fuel.
My gas.
To keep this car driving.
Driving me insane.
Because in this spotlight
is where I feel the most pain.
I’m tired of dancing —
but I have to keep you all entertained.
Me up here
is what will keep you to stay.
It’s time for the next scene.
The curtains close.
Running in the back.
The dressing room.
Time to change.
This version of me
you want to replace.
Curls must be straight.
Red lipstick stained on my face.
Heels instead of sneakers
to help me run this race.
No jeans,
so bring a dress just in case.
The curtains open.
Am I beautiful to you again?
Do I look like your Barbie?
Do I make you feel like Ken?
Does your heart pitter-patter —
like it once did before?
Or is something missing?
Or do you need more?
Up here
for you!
All for you
to make room
for me.
On my tippy toes;
prancing around.
I’m your pretty ballerina.
So elegant.
So graceful.
So free.
So
not
me.
But only the version
you desire
of me.
I’m uncomfortable.
I’m exhausted.
This spotlight brings so much heat.
It’s shining directly on me.
Hope you see my fatigue.
Hope you see
the tears collecting in my eyes.
Hoping you’d get on this stage
and interrupt these lies.
Hoping you’d cut me loose
from these puppet strings
I’m tied.
But instead
you buy me more…
Heels,
Dresses,
and red lipstick.
This is who
you would rather see.
If not,
your sighs
are signs
of disappointment
to me.
So I continue
spinning
on my feet.
The red lipstick is fading.
Almost turning pink.
Straight hair is curling.
Heels
causing blisters
on my feet.
Suddenly…
You stopped clapping.
You stopped cheering.
Now —
You complain.
You scorn.
This isn’t me.
Don’t know who you want?
But this isn’t me.
Do you even know me?
Do you even see me?
Do you even hear me?
You don’t.
There’s this version of me
you love.
A version
I can’t upkeep.
Please —
close these curtains.
I beg.
Next scene.
The curtains open.
And there
I would not be.
Copyright © Krystin Douglas | Year Posted 2025
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