a sad, sunny day

I place the pillow you sleep on
unto my face;
a quick retraction,
it still smells like you.

This skin is too warm,
I can’t breathe with it on.
Please sharpen my nails so I can peel it away
like the PVA glue that stuck to me in school.

I scream inside,
a whimper lets itself out.
I’ll wrap myself in fairy lights
to feel half as beautiful as you say I am.

Rather than draw red with a blade,
I paint makeup across my face.
A flick and a swish,
like fairy tale cartoons.

“You still look terrible,”
the wretched voice says.
“Thanks,”
I respond, ignoring it.

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