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Poetry: “Blood, Guts, and Angel Cake”

Poetry: “Blood, Guts, and Angel Cake”

| On 23, Jan 2020

By Paige Besante and Ra’saan Stevens


Tonight I’ve soaked in cold bath water to hide every pore I bare.

The rose petals have lost their scent and I have rollers in my hair.

Cold air hits my skin and I wrap myself in a silk, Dior robe.

It’s soft, subtle, and gives me the comfort you no longer show.

In our bedroom, I desperately search for a dress.

I want to mirror the reason you held me at the altar and said “yes.”

Pink is too vibrant, blue is too bland.

I want to be as beautiful as the diamond on my hand.

But then I find the one, perfect length and all.

A lacy black dress, sitting confident and tall.

I hold it up by the hanger, admiring its satin touch.

Revelation, I match it with a clutch.

I’ll have Daisy steam it in the morning,

It will be crisp and fresh just like when we began dating.


The clicking of my faux heels have a steady, rhythmic pace.

I lift up my Ray-Bans, revealing the eyeliner-drawn heart on my face.

I’m wearing one of my favorite outfits, a Givenchy set.

A tight-fitting, plaid sheath of pastel pink and red.

I flip my blonde hair over my shoulder, exposing a jacket to match.

The amount of stares I receive makes me laugh.

Everyone pays attention, everyone stares.

No one dares to give me a glare.

My fashion is bold, always in style, and cold.

Every week, I toss my clothes that are old.

I’m a primadonna, a true queen,

A diva, a brat, and a true drama queen.

Teen Idol

I wish sometimes I was normal.

I wish in high school, I ran for prom queen.

I wish I was like the other girls, smart and pretty.

I am not them, I cannot compete.

I wish to fit in with the other girls, too.

I wish I had done what my friends asked me to do.

I am not them, I cannot compete.

I do not give in to peer pressure,

I know how to be myself,

But I wish I was more like them.

I am not them, I can not compete.

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