She was as..
She was as beautiful
as a coffee table decorated with a fragrant center piece.
Meanwhile, I was compared to silverware with the way
I spooned with my insecurities,
with the least amount of room between my chest and knees
because I was oblivious to her ability to be-love every single part of me.
She caught me with my head hovering the toilet
after a night of eating everything in sight
reminded me of those who have starved to death
And asked me, “How, how did you lose your appetite?”
But since I couldn’t wrap my fingers ‘round my ankles
I compared myself to obtuse angles in Math class.
And for each day that would pass,
I could hear her thoughts out loud.
She would enunciate syllables without ever moving her mouth
and she would say, “You are everything, worth loving.”
But I didn’t believe her, no.
So I let her pay witness to my Discovery channel episode,
How it’s Made and let her watch me take and X-Acto knife
from my jewelry box and carve the word PAIN
into the fresh flesh of my forearm to show the world how blood
truly stains and scars do remain for so long that not even a
Tide-To-Go could erase.
And that’s when I noticed how her eyes were like leaky faucets
that didn’t just drip, drip-drop
but flooded her face.
She was like the puddles you avoided after the storms drifted away.
And I couldn’t save her.
I forgot to save her.
She was so lost in the baggage now, I couldn’t even claim her.
She was like a bottle of emotions left open to the air
and I think she ripped her heart out as she walked away without a care
If only she learned to love herself
instead of reacting to the fear,
then maybe I could recognize her when I look at myself in the mirror.