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/Frankenstein and the Glasshouse

11/27/2019

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I got this glasshouse of a heart that I put into poems and photographs. 

Strangers have watched me break and gather myself 
with a mirror glued between my fingers 

no matter how grotesque and brutal the reflection.
My heart is Frankenstein's monster.

Most days, I'm not sure if I'm Victor or victim.
Most nights, I'm animated by some unknown spark

that projects this fire, confined like unborn, in my belly.
I give things openly that people never asked for,

but I don't need their permission to exist.
I never said they ʜᴀᴅ to watch.

But most people can't walk by a glasshouse without looking in.
Even if it's merely to criticize it for being glass in the first place.

Anything transparent, broken and beautiful makes them uncomfortable
.

--Melanie YeYo Carter
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Full Circle (How It Ends)

11/11/2019

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Full room and I was movin’ through the crowd with 
I ate twice before I came energy 
​I left the worries outside next to old insecurities 
smokin a blunt so they could get their shit together 
 
I was spilling black woman all ova everybody’s space  
The gutta-walk was sickening 
Sex appeal and wet on 10 
with no outlet worthy enough to get this wet wet 
this Soul Snatcha 
this baby-nectar-voodoo shit 
 
Until it found safe ghosting on an old lover’s lips 
 
Occasionally, full circle occurs unexpectedly 
And it ain’t always pretty or docile 
It can brew like quiet before storm in a catacomb of emotion  
or in a backseat brimming with exposed bodies full of everything 
except expectations 
 
Air full of blood words and torture tactics 
that sound like “pull my hair and slap my ass… again… again” 
There are no lies, just skin 
 
No “I love yous” because it didn’t work the first time, 
and, at this point, songs are the only thing in this life worth the repeat 
 
And it ain’t that I don’t feel the love anymore- 
I just know it’s not enough  
 
I just know it doesn’t taste the same 
But, my God, how we can still find each other’s spots in the dark 
 
make beautiful orgasms of an unexplained connection 
 
I still think our children would have been southern classics 
with machetes for mouths and sky skin of unmuted melodies 
 
addicted to feeling 
addicted to people 
 
and overly passionate about shit like lines and lyrics  
and love stories that don’t resemble war 
 
But, those are just thoughts 
with no what ifs attached 
 
Our possibilities were gutted and eulogized 
somewhere between the second and third girlfriend you chose  
that wasn’t me 
 
Somewhere in the miscommunication where I was hurt 
and you were angry 
and we were both some stubborn ass glassblowers  
who forgot our Eden and our apple 
 
But, we can still taste it 
Still feel it between our teeth like gravity 
Reminding us that we messed up the love 
but we’ve always known how to f’k each other like porn stars 
Like joy growing through bloody concrete 
So, we split each other open  
 
And I walked away spilling black woman all ova yo shit 
My gutta-walk was sickening 
 
            And I held no regrets-- 
 
 
Melanie YeYo Carter 
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    "I was blessed with the ability to make ugly look pretty. This is my superpower."

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