Girls Like Us

girls like us with vibrant, gold dust hearts,

and glitter-coated skin, were groomed to want

for nothing, but to preen, to primp—

to blindly bat an eye—

to smother, conceal—to grow full,

and robust with life—with death.

girls like us were crafted—molded,

and released into the arms of awaiting

greed, of awaiting bliss-stained lies—

backs bending under their weighted gazes.

girls like us deflected, cooing in silence—

sobbing, and whimpering in the dark,

they had promised us purpose—Elysium,

but it was just another somber lullaby

folded up into whiskey-soaked pieces.

but, girls like us weren’t trained to deny—

to question, scrutinize, or abscond, no—

but girls like us, we get tired—we grow weary

of black-winged promises—the thousands

of unuttered apologies we taste on your lips.

because, girls like us shouldn’t tie our hearts

and hopes onto silver threaded strings,

only to throw them in the gutter,

begging for a desperate, hungry mouth

to reel in—feeding them our flesh,

nourishing them with our bones, our bodies—

our blood another wasted sacrament.

because girls like us shouldn’t snip parts,

and pieces of ourselves away—tucking bits

of our souls into unmarked graves—

laid to rest, and forgotten—tethered by

the ghosts of who we should have been.

girls like us will rise from the ruins—

with ether in our veins, fire in our hearts,

and hurricanes in our hands.

girls like us will tear down our own glass houses,

to curate our own fantasies—our own bliss,

and with bloodied hands, and skinned knees,

we will lead you back to the gutters

in which we found you.

Xandra Winters © 2021

Previously Published On Medium