“I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.” Sylvia Plath
te mostré el color de mis uñas pintadas
te gustan
no
por qué
si las pinté con la sangre de mis vísceras
y el cuchillo sigue enroscado en mis costillas
tengo que hacer belleza de mi cuerpo mutilado
sino como voy a ser amada
a pesar de mi carne herida
mis uñas se ven lindas
lindas
no mires las heridas
acaso no se me ve lindo este tono de rojo
están lindas
/
i showed you my newly painted nails / do you like them / no / why not / i painted them with the blood from my gut / the knife is still twisted inside my ribs / i have to make beauty of my mutilated flesh / to be loved despite my gory body / my nails look pretty / don't look at the wounds / isn't this red pretty?
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