6666

Or swear or spit. 
I guess I’m not a pretty lady  
because tears pour heavy in the darkness, 
where no one can see to say such stupid things to me; 
where I swear to the gods and the seas 
that I’m over their shit, but I still love 
everything they have blessed me with  
just to spite them. 
So, what does it really mean, not wanting pretty girls to cry? 
You think such delicate works of art shouldn’t depict the realities of humanity— 
that all things in this life don’t, in fact, suffer beautifully? 
Go fucking figure. 
Tell the men, I want my crystals and porcelain to be cracked and crumbling, 
like they’ve lived a life beyond dusted shelves and tea parties 
because that’s what proves resilience is a force to be reckoned with. 
Let the children smash them against the cold floor, loving them anyway. 
Piece by piece they can be reassembled, and come morning  
they’ll be twinkling in the midsummer sun. 

Ashley Noelle Bertram

Pretty Ladies Shouldn’t Cry