postpartum for my wisdom teeth
the kid in the mirror ripped my wisdom teeth out makes me wish i was just dinner for the maggots i'll stare into his eyes and pick at the tile's grout i hate the little kid who made me hate my curls bathtub of blood where i emerge a new person paraiba for eyes because blue is your favourite ivory teeth, made from the sacrifice of sleep straightforward stare, never turning to profile sallow complexion from staying in bed for days coral lipstick to prove what i am to the mirror my thighs burning with the pressure of the world i want my wisdom teeth back, writhing in my bed to see myself as a person, not a mass of flaws blood navigates the spaces between my teeth leaves pink plaque to fester a smell in my breath but maybe if i had my wisdom teeth i'd love me
I had some unpleasant experiences as a child, many of which made me have to grow up quickly. Wisdom teeth symbolise my youth, innocence, and naivety in this poem. Sometimes I wonder if I'd be a more confident person if I hadn't experienced the things that I have. I feel like I should give a positive twist in this little paragraph but I don't think there is one. It's true, I would be a more outgoing person. I'd probably be a lot less insecure and I'd love myself more. This doesn't mean there's no room to heal though. Someone's past will add to their person but it doesn't have to define them.