Pretty Hurts

Pretty Hurts short poem

Photo by keatssycamore

She didn’t cry pretty.

She cried like her tears were blood
Flowing from the vein
Where the shards of glass
Were put to ease the pain

She didn’t cry pretty.

She cried like it burns
Like the first sip of alcohol
Scorching your throat
And enhancing your inhibitions

She didn’t cry pretty.

She cried with the poison
Of the cigarette smoke
Slowly swirling in your mouth
And blackening your lungs

She didn’t cry pretty.

She cried desperately
Naked
Wild

She cried beautifully.

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