I will always be the devil
you invite back into
your bed.
With twisted sheets
and
heavy breath
I'll consume you
again and again,
each time
taking more than just
the skin
from your lusting
bones.

And you know
it doesn't matter to me
if you're broken,
because with
teeth to flesh
I will devour what little
is left.

If only temporarily,
the Milky Way
took up residence
along my spine today.

I can still feel, and even
see it, softly glowing there
although I know, rationally,
it chooses to live elsewhere.

I once read a post that said
something along the lines of
“I do not trust people
who tell me ‘I love you’
and yet do not love themselves.”

And that hurt my heart, it really did.

Who are you to invalidate my love?

Do you not know
of the sleepless nights I have spent,
laboring over my sins of the day?
Knowing that sometimes
I may never repent?
With past regrets
and paranoid overthinking,
how do I rest?

Do you not know
of how I avoid looking in mirrors
throughout the day,
or how I hate looking
at myself in the shower?
Don't you know how
conflicted I feel when lying
naked and vulnerable with my lover?

Do you not know
what it feels like to apologize
for who you are?
Or to have all of
your efforts and ethics
invalidated and dismissed?

If you do not trust me then so be it,
but do not reject the idea that I can love.
I know what it means to have
neither hope nor acceptance,
I know what it means
to regret my existence.

I know what it feels like
at 4am with all the lights out
with the absolute conviction
that I am entirely worthless.

I know **** well
what it feels like to be unloved.
Does that not make my love
*mean that much more?