Insecurity
Lauren Estes
I
She tires of writing
melancholy thoughts. Time moves
and the memories,
unhurried, curl around the
pen. Writing their own story.
II
She hasn’t showered
in two days. Instead, she will
coat puffy-pink eyelids
in soft peach powder. She hopes
today will be easier.
III
One Hydroxyzine,
anxiety killer. Puts
a grin on her face
and keeps it there. Some will say
that sativa does the same.
IV
From desperation
she draws from the Camel Blue
cigarette. It fills
her mouth with an earthy smoke.
She promises, It’s the last.
V
Freshly grown, those stripes.
For some, it is pride. For her
it’s a pain. Twenty
new pounds she’s gained. The aged
navy jeans still fit, unzipped.
VI
For so long she will
ponder. She brushes polish
on broken nail beds.
She prunes in the chipped mirror,
When will I be beautiful?
VII
A half-eaten plum
in seventy-one degree
weather, decomposed,
is much like a defeated
spirited woman. She pleads.
Lauren Estes is a black writer who dreams of spreading awareness of mental illness through creative writing.
coraddimag.com 