"Unattractive" Poetry in English

 "Unattractive" Poetry– नमस्कार दोस्तों! स्वागत है आपका हमारी वेब्सायट ThePoetry के एक और नए Post में। इस Post में हमने "Unattractive" Poetry in English अप्डेट किया है। अगर आप भी "Unattractive" Topic पर Poetry Search कर रहे है तो यह पर आपको "Unattractive" Poetry in English यहाँ मिलेंगे

जैसे- "Unattractive" Poetry in English unattractive poetry, unattractive poem, about unattractive line, मिलेंगे, हमें उम्मीद है आपको यह पोस्ट अच्छा लगेगा।♥️😍

When you take my glasses off and noticehow my eyes cross, I won't tell you about hypermetropia where due to long sightedness,my eyes can't focus and to avoid a double vision my eyes cross. I won't tell you it can be treated instead I'll tell you "My eyes are multi tasking, one eyelooking back at you and another that has been searching for home for far too long.

"When you laugh at my bulgy nose, I'll tell you, "How it's one of the very fewthings, I inherited from my father, his pride made his nose bulgy whereas I drewsharp breaths, every time a blow was thrown at me, every time I heard thesound of belt meeting skin, every time I inhale the smoke that came fromcigarettes, every time I saw that mattress smudged with blood.

" I'll tellyou, "Maybe that's why my nose is bulgy because it refuses to let go of sobs Isuppressed anywhere but within words.

" When you lean in to kiss me and you don'tfind red, full lips rather thin and discolored ones I will quote Milnes to you,I'll tell you, "These lips are as thin as a brief forgotten dream and they werefirst kissed by a Dementor and he sucked the marrow from my lips and drained itof color. Lips that hadn't even learned how to paint wild fantasies.

" When yourtongue runs through the gap in my front teeth, I'll not tell you how they call itdiastema. But rather how I call it the Great Escape where words trapped behindthis cage made of twenty-eight bars created cracks in-between and lashed out,which on some days, made me a casualty in my own home.

When you kiss my cheeks anda jaw that is more bone than flesh I'll tell you how, "I've bit the insides of mycheeks swallowing words that still lay undigested, at the pit of my stomach.Maybe, that's why, I am skinny. Maybe that's why there are days I binge eatand there are days I don't eat at all.

" When you whisper something in the middleof the night and I cannot hear it, I won't tell you, how people call me deafrather I'll tell you about 26 continuous slaps that's still ring in my earsome nights. And I'll tell you I know it's 26. Because that's the number oftimes, I told myself, "It's going to be okay.

" I tell you, how the insides of my right ear bled, when my father put a matchstickin it to clean it.

Because I clearly wasn't paying attention when he wastalking. When your fingers do not find long dense hair rather gets tangled inmy short curls, I'll tell you, "It refuses to grow, maybe because it cannot bear thethought of being pulled and banged in the walls anymore.

" When your fingers donot find a bosom, that's too big for your palms. I'll not tell you, how naturalmy breasts are rather I'll tell you about a 13-year-old chest that has borepunches as hard as my father's heart and I'll tell you, "Maybe this chest is flatnow, but it has always refused to be knocked down.

" When you trace the scars onmy knees, I'll tell you how my knees fell in prayer to God every day, asking, "YaRabb Maddad, Ya Rabb Maddad," and no help came, untilI stopped asking.

When you don't find smooth moisturized legs wrapped aroundyour waist rather hairy ones that tickle your back and you laugh at my femininity.

I'll tell you, how after I discovered I was a woman, I pretended to be a manbecause men could get away with anything. But my body could have produced enoughtestosterone to keep up with this demand, so I'm left with this as a reminder thata woman cannot even get away with unshaven legs. When you feel me at partsI've been told carry my dignity, I'll wince in pain.

I'll tell you, how my dignitywas snatched away from me and I'm trying to grow it back every day, trying to findmy worth in poems and books, trying to find what more can dignify me apart frommy sexuality. And when I get comfortable with you and I overstep your boundaries,you'll push me away and I'll tell you, "I'm sorry I wasn't invading.

I'm nothingbut a refugee and I mistook you as an asylum. And when you tell me thatevery conversation with you now just feels like a hunt for a poem.

I'll wonder, if you noticed that I've always been a scaredkid, who hides behind amateur metaphors that have shielded, comforted, accepted me,unconditionally, like a mother that I wish I had. So when I run out stories tokeep you engaged and you call my plot to his loopholes, you'll see me as someonewho neither has mystery or a gorgeous body, just someone with words, you'veheard, before too many times. And you will leave.

Before leaving you will tell me you loved me but I was too much. You'll call me beautiful, out of pity.

But discard me away as, "Unattractive." Unpleasant to, "look at." In that momentI'll know, that you have only been looking, not loving. 

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