lacquerlips - Tumblr blog

[lacquerlips]

I’ve been on my knees since I was 5.

In the chapel,

in a bedroom,

in an alley late at night.

Always facing an inflated

godlike

version of some guy.

But as a girl you do what you need to survive.

You open wider, take the body.

Thank your father, you’ve been naughty.

2 Hail Marys, 20 lashings.

“I’ve been sent to punish you for daring to exist.

You will never know a love as meaningful as this.”

I’ve memorized

the lines

since I was 10.

From the Bible,

from the playbook,

from the magazines for men.

If you should mess it up, you’ll start again.

But, still, they only want

the women

they condemn.

I think that I’d have too much fun in hell.

With the pagans

and the hedonists

and sapphics there as well.

Purgatory seems the better fit

I can’t stand waiting in the corner,

but I do love being hit.

There’s not a torture you can prescribe

that I wouldn’t find

a way to like.

Every single second I’m alive

I’m sharpening an axe I’d like to grind.

“I was sent to punish you

for the way I was designed.

You will never know a love

that you fear more than mine.”

- “God Fear a Woman” 2023

[lacquerlips]

The Gallery

You sleep soundly, protected by the company of 

snakes, angels, and demons.

They guard your organs, flesh, and muscles.

Without moving eyes they watch the world pass you by

While you're none the wiser, drunk on beer and sunstroke.

The breath that leaves you fans over a crest of regality, valiance,

The summer grass tries to scratch away the frowns of the skulls on your arms,

You've come too far to continue to be sad.

At least, that's the impression I get.

I like your homage to the illuminati: that little triangle below your intestine 

forever searches for lies and enlightenment.

Or maybe you just decided that it looked cool?

And I love that angel, clinging to your spine as you dive into the four corners of hell

Yet it drags you back to the surface, reminding you of the better qualities you have

that overshadow the bad ones.

Your body is a gallery, and I've bought myself a ticket. 

I only planned to take the basic tour, a brief introduction. 

But the more I look I'm drawn to the finer details, 

the emotions, the story behind 

each intricate piece.

And I wonder if I'm willing to pay 

For the full immersive experience,

To feel the ink burn my fingers,

and stain my palms,

and your creations forever be printed behind my eyes.

And the gallery begs me to ‘please, come touch the artwork’

[lacquerlips]

Sunshine at Six

It’s been a while since I can remember

Waking up to soft hands skating down the length of my body

And chapped lips prickling at my ears, nose, and mouth.

Opening my eyes I see yours are

Thickly glued still with sleep.

But your smile is immaculate,

Reflecting off the penetrating glow of morning sunshine

Past the curtains

That seeks to sneak a peek at the safety I’ve found in you.

I’m perplexed how your hands are so warm

As they chase away the chills in my body.

And you’re quiet as you close what little distance is left between us

To breathe life into me with a kiss and whisper

'How beautiful you are at this time of day’.

I’m inclined to disbelieve you.

But my disbelief in myself is drowned out by

My sheer fondness of you,

And your warm hands,

And sleepy, lust-ridden smile,

And wild hair that’s lost a match to a pillow and my fingers,

And the art gallery you wear proudly on your body.

And as I trace the ultraviolet veins in your chest

I realize on behalf of us both that

I could get used to waking up at six on a sunday

And forever be cradled in the sunshine of your gaze.

[lacquerlips]

Leaving

I’ve become good at leaving. I’ve become good at quick exits and silent goodbyes. I’ve been taught how to replace people, not how to keep them. I’ve been taught how to walk away, not how to stay. And I'm fucking exhausted. I'm tired of people not sticking around. I'm tired of people not waiting a little longer. I'm tired of people taking hearts so lightly. We've become so addicted to the chase, to the next best thing, to the bigger house, the nicer car, the next big purchase — but we've forgotten about our home. Our family. Our forever. Our heart. We've forgotten that strength does not mean the reluctance to ask for help or a hand to hold. We've forgotten that no matter how independent we want to be, we still need people — we still need love, someone to lean on when things get rough. We've forgotten that we need to stick around more often. That we need to be more tolerant. That we need to be more patient. We've forgotten that love takes time. We've forgotten that the basic and simplest first step to finding love is staying. But we don't stick around anymore. We move on to the next, hoping that we'll find something worth staying for. Hoping for something better. The truth is — you will never find what you're looking for if you don't stop for a little while and dissect it; the hidden parts, the dark sides, and see the scars that are rooted deep inside. This is how you see someone's beauty. This is how you see someone's soul. This is how you fall in love — real love, honest love. But first, you have to stay. I have to stay.

[lacquerlips]

Cool Girl

I am the cool girl.

The thick eyeliner and scuffed up converse girl,

Not afraid to tell everyone to go fuck themselves girl,

Smoke some weed in the lane behind school girl

While the boys drink Pabst blue ribbon with me girl.

And eventually I’ll be the wind up in your lap girl

Winning a boxing match with my tongue girl

But I’ll stop a few minutes later and tell you

“We’re just better off being friends” girl.

And you’ll be disappointed for a minute

Before you go find another not as cool as me girl.

I'm the double barrel bird girl

To fuck with the popular girls.

They don’t like me at all

Because they all think I’m a slutty girl,

… Or at least that’s what they tell everyone.

But they’re just a bunch of hypocritical girls.

I’m the have every record you can imagine girl,

From the Arctic Monkeys to Eartha Kitt girl

And I have a playlist on my Spotify just for sex girl

Because I need the perfect score 

To make you loose your fucking mind girl.

But I stop and wonder what it would be like

If I wasn’t the cool girl.

Maybe I’d be the do better in school girl,

Have more friends girl,

Not have rumours scratched about me in the bathroom girl.

Because the fact of the matter is

To be the cool girl means you’re the lonely girl.

Providing everyone with great memories

Of wild drinking games and sex 

And no emotional fulfillment for yourself girl.

To be cast off to the side of your graduation photo

And nobody feels the need to ask you to dance at prom

Because you’re too cool for that shit anyway, girl. 

I’m the settle for leaning against the wall

And drinking spiked fruit punch girl.

I had a reunion a few autumns ago

I didn’t show

Because I didn’t want anyone to know 

I didn’t turn out to be a cool girl.

I'm just the lonely girl who was having

A hard time at home so

I compensated through recklessness girl.

But I was the looked damn good while doing it girl.

So it’s better to be a distant memory in the minds of everyone

As they ask each other

“I wonder whatever happened to… oh, what was her name?

You know, that cool girl,”

[lacquerlips]

chocolate chip cranberry shortbread cookies

[lacquerlips]

Because, I told him, my art is different from yours. / Mine will never make me any money, certainly won’t make me famous. / Poetry is a plain woman who comes and goes as she pleases.

— Jessica Abughattas, from “The Pure Gold Baby,” Strip: Poems (via lifeinpoetry)