why we wear stilettos
April, 2017
late at night i see
chalky red skin and pointed teeth
these days
these days have been bitter days.
they taste sharp i-bit-the-inside-of-my-cheek-and-the-result-is-so-salty-and-sore kind of days.
oftentimes,
these days,
i want for nothing more than to leap into the limp arms
of all these clear-eyed strangers
and impose all expression of hurt upon their indifference
wiggling inside of them, rocking back and forth
punching out their insides
redecorating its slimy, unlovely walls.
my interior smut paint job.
clipping on stilettos i can not claim to own —
the ones with red on the bottom
shiny black on top.
clip, clip,
stomp, stomp.
jabbing little holes into the inside folds.
i can do this because i am on the inside.
there’s one girl i know.
she has stilettos, too.
her skin is a chalky red color.
it covers something she doesn’t want people to see.
she spent some time wandering in a spiritual land
and she meditates weekly and she does yoga daily
in lulu lemon leggings, usually with patterns,
and she likes to talk progressive
like about privilege and intersectionality
and to ask questions that begin with what is it like to
and she’s usually pretty ok about it all
but today she told me,
smiling to reveal the pointed tips of her teeth,
i’m just too happy to care.
her eyes cleared a little, i swear.
i stared at her for a minute
as my internal organs succumbed to gravity
i removed the heels, lowering my feet to the ground
the red soles were covered in sticky goop.
i didn’t need them anymore.
i watched a documentary for a class once
in which a trans woman once
told me, not giving a fuck is the greatest privilege of all
in the corner of my notebook
i scribbled this down
but i never shared those words with anyone.
i guess they scared me too much.
late at night i see
chalky red skin and pointed teeth.