She isn't beautiful.

She already knew this, but the truth still hurts. 
She faces the wall and her body speaks. 

"It's alright," says her heart, as her shoulders shake with the rhythm of sobs. Her small hands grasp her arms in comfort. An icy, throbbing pain seeps through her limbs and down to her toes; she draws her knees to her chest like a shield, no, like a wall. A wall to keep the fury and the grief and the humiliation inside, from soaking her bed and waking her ignorant lover. 

"I still love you," says her body. Her uneven ******* rise with her shallow gasps, her marred skin warms her frozen soul, her graceless legs protect her and her body loves her, loves her even if he doesnt. Even if he doesn't see her for anything but her faults, her body loves her. It is hers and hers alone and no one else will love her like she loves herself. 

"You're very pretty," says her brain, but it is of no comfort to her, only a reassurance that she will never be desired like a fairy tale princess, never mistaken for an angel. No wars would be fought over her, no dances ever asked of her. No matter the pain or the paint or the tears or the tries. 

She isn't beautiful. 

She already knew this.

I can't have it
and you can't have it
and we won't
get it

so don't bet on it
or even think about
it

just get out of bed
each morning

wash
shave
clothe
yourself
and go out into
it

because
outside of that
all that's left is
suicide and
madness

so you just
can't
expect too much

you can't even
expect

so what you do
is
work from a modest
minimal
base

like when you
walk outside
be glad your car
might possibly
be there

and if it is-
that the tires
aren't
flat

then you get
in
and if it
starts--you
start.

and
it's the damndest
movie
you've ever
seen
because
you're
in it--

low budget
and
4 billion
critics

and the longest
run
you ever hope
for
is

one
day.

echos bounce off of the
brown wooden walls
in this room;
i am stuck.
a constant ringing -
reminder of a time
that once was.
i survive through
dates carved on
bridges in front of
waterfalls.
you avoid eye contact -
and i notice.
we are swastikas
and *** leaves
drawn in permanent marker
on the
insides of
desks.
we are phone numbers
scrawled on
bathroom walls -
do not call me for a good time.
we are cigarette burns -
               on purpose.

My Theme
I am allowed to fall in love
over and over
What if I like that feeling?
That feeling of fire in my belly

I know what I feel is unacheivable
I know half the time you'll say no

But just like learning, the way to find love
is to sift out all those
unworthy
making mistakes, then learning from them

how do I know you're not eternal
if I don't sing you my song?
if I don't do my dance.
If we never make love.

I've learned from you that
no, maybe you aren't my mate.
And maybe we aren't destined
for eachother.

but yes you are as close to me
and as important.
and Yes, love is worth fighting for.
even a love
not built for me.