Carcinogenic

I.
...and all I ever wanted
was to be
beautiful.
because maybe then I would
be [loved.]

ii.
but I know that I'll only be
as beautiful as my crinkled
black lungs (that are as dark
as ebony)

and the scars
I have created myself
to decorate the ivory skin
loosely pulled over my
delicate bird-bones

iii.

I smoked too many cigarettes today.

iv.
sometimes I wish lifesavers were
what they say.

(A cure for cancer.)

v.
You pull me close and say I'm pretty.
(even when I'm hacking up my lungs)

That's how I know
you're lying. (Cancer isn't
pretty. And I'm not either.)

vi.
I learned many years ago that death
isn't beautiful.

and when death has been on my lips
and ribs
and tracing my fingertips
for the majority of my life....

vii.
I am not beautiful. In my eyes
or any one else's.

viii.
I like your petty lies.
I like your listless moments where
all you want is your
face
between my legs.

ix.

Sometimes I wish I knew what happiness was.

x.
but I'm afraid I wouldn't want to leave.
and I know that
someday I would
have to.

because...

xi.
happiness isn't for things like us.
(and my tissue-paper lungs)
And neither is [love].

Although I hear it is like cancer.

xii.

and within the decade all the scars
will fade and all the stars
will fall from the sky

like tears into a raging ocean.

xiii.

like our carcinogenic hearts.