In the summer I would always wear shorts, when I did my mom would always tell I had the most beautiful legs. Long and tall, just like my dad. Are they still beautiful? Now covered in fights and hard days. Filled with scars and cuts. The bandaids help hide the pain. The sting of the fresh cut just done last night. Drawing in silver but it comes out red. In the summer I would always wear shorts, now she questions why I cover up.
Posted Mar 26, 2021, 3:58 PM UTC · edited
I like this compact in paragraph style. It's like this poem could stand up tall if it wanted, but is sitting crosslegged on a couch undercovers instead. I imagine your legs are still beautiful. Most things with scars often are, but I also am left worried about the protagonist. What are these fights? Are they with mom? Are they with dad? Are they with those long, gangly legs? Why did *silver* bring out red as recently as last night? When will this poem wear shorts again? Proud of its height and verse? Proud of the ups and downs that have made her the beautiful, unique person that she is?
I really love the rawness and vulnerability of this poem and know exactly what you’re expressing (having been through it myself).
The one sentence that I’m not too sure of is ‘drawing in sliver’. I’m not too sure if it’s a typo, but if it isn’t, I understand the image you’re trying to get across. If it’s the latter, I don’t think the wording does it justice - perhaps something along the lines of ‘drawing slivers that drench red’ or ‘bleed red’. Another analogy I’ve used within my own poetry is to refer to them as ink - for example, ‘drawing red ink; pen against flesh’.
I really love the final sentence as well - it’s very poignant and powerful and draws attention how taboo self harm is without being overdone.
Thank you so much for you feedback. The meaning of “drawing in silver but it comes out red” is referring to the silver blade and the red blood. I really appreciate the constructive criticism.
I thought you might’ve meant silver! Apologies for that. In which case, I think that line works perfectly and is really powerful.
This poem hits home for me, because I'd recently just crawled out of a similar pit months ago. I really love the idea of the changes going on within your life that end up with you doing things that your parents might never know about, and then associating the same action to a happy memory, it gives me the feeling that you're letting your parents down. But, no matter what one goes through, you're always beautiful. Still beautiful, even with those little slashes all over your body. Getting over events like these make us strong, and I completely believe in you.
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