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Pretty little flower
Growing as you please

Pretty yellow flower
Pesky little ****

Roses, orchids, hydrangea
Are gifted and adored

Pretty Dandelion
They stomp tug cut

But pretty fluffy white
Remember this clear

When the hopeful children blow
Wishes are the greatest gift
They rather gaze upon my wall of sullen blue certificates
And black and white report cards

Over the wall of art, creation, life
And the expanse that is I.
… in recognition for Earning A’s in all Core STEM and Humanities Classes and no C’s in all classes for the entire quarter.
They say I shouldn’t worry about love,
and that I have to love myself.
Well, sure,
I do love myself.

I love the way my hair bounces when I spin
I love how soft my face is after I use the special wash
I love it when I wear the really cool clothes my parents hate
I love running my hand through faded scars from struggles past
and thinking
Hell yeah, I’m strong for that.

But is it wrong to want to hear those things said from another?

I lay under the warmth of plushies and duvet
wrapping my arms around myself,
and imagining that they were my lover’s.

I dress myself in the mornings
and wish that there was someone to call me
— not just a pretty person, I know that,
— but their pretty person.

And I want to call them my
Moonshine
Starlight
Love.

Because, yeah, I love myself,
But I want to love something more

And I want someone else to
Love me too.
It’s like making a piece of art you’re happy about. You feel amazing about it, you know the process it took to get to the product and you’re really proud of yourself. But you don’t want to keep it to yourself, you want to share it with others, because it’s too beautiful to keep to yourself.

My Love Mine All Mine - Cavetown (Mitski cover)
?
I’m not quite sure
What I’m doing here

What does it matter?
Why do I matter?

How is this the river mouth of my tears?
Are these the consequences of my actions?

What would it be like if things were different?
Why couldn’t things be different?

What does it matter?
Why do I matter?

Do I matter?
Why?

I’m not complaining, really
Just questioning.
Being able to stand at the bedside
Of that woman who
hurt
            hurt
                        hurt
you at your most vulnerable

And kiss her cheek while she is
hurt
            hurt
                        hurt
and at her most vulnerable

Is incredibly commendable.
I wish I remembered.
Only then would I have an excuse
to not forgive.

Forgetting
is not unexperiencing.
Its being left with a lingering reminisce,
a senseless dread,
a dull ache
that you can't find the source of.

I wish I remembered
so that I can hate you
without hating myself.

Because it feels like you did so much
while doing nothing at all.

But I know you did.
I know you hurt me,
I know you hurt me.

I just can't quite
remember.
I have really bad memory and it makes me vulnerable to being hurt repeatedly by toxic people because I don't remember what they did wrong. It still hurts, though.
Good dogs listen

Bad dogs bite

Hurt dogs
cower
whine
bite
and listen
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