Palettes

I want to look ridiculous

look fiercely independent,

a harsh streak of colour on the soft sunlit pastels of perfect girls

I want it to scream something is damaged,

something is mine

something is

this body, face, mistakes,

these wins. this heart.

they are all mine.

This sphere bleached chemical discolouration

tells you no one can love, crush your illusions for you – I’ll be my own antidote

not yours, not anyone’s.

 

 

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