throatache

listen

I am sick of being sad

I’m too sexy

I don’t deserve it

started glowing inside when back in the good years

my great-grandma told me she wore a bathing suit and

smoked cigarettes on the back of a boat in the thirties

listen

I am glowing still and have

decided people like us get an extra color

there is a note between f and f sharp for our ears alone

lucky lucky lucky to be on my own two aching feet

with crispy lips a tangled kitchen

off-center off-white off-putting

I am not a sad bitch at heart

maybe all this time I’ve been pretending

I am not so sad just

squinting at the sun

borrowing my extra color

leave a smudge behind my ear

smile when you see it

newborn

hmmmm you said i light up a room

i am inclined to believe you but

everyone else is asleep and

i have not the heart to wake them

instead i’ve opened the mouth inside myself that

is hungry for violence and sweet cereal and

anything but an outside sound

found a kind of beauty that

lies beyond my agent saying

'maybe next time :('

i want revenge

i want to bask in it

swallow it warm

finally birthed the scapegoat

on cold tiles with

no one to hold my hand

she’s a soft-hooved slimy thing

wipe my hands

hide her in the cupboard

gaze into the camera

Isabella Willms-Jones is a German-Creole copywriter and poet based in Philadelphia. Her work has previously appeared in Elmhurst University’s MiddleWestern Voice. She can be found on Instagram @bellaivanawj.