There wasn't a lot
I could do for you
With the distance and everything else
I couldn't give you much
Only some small piece of myself
And the image of my body bare
For you to keep
I would like to think the fantasy I spun
Helped you in some way
I know it probably didn't
And it was foolish nonetheless to play a game of falsity
The reality of us sunk in too deeply
Too quickly
And all at once
Our future,
There was none
I forget that in reference
I didn't have the time to care
So I stopped all at once
I'm sorry for that
I hope I broke your heart enough
For you to be able to write a song about it
Maybe melody and lyrics
With some semblance of us in them
I hope wherever you are
You are getting closer to happy
I hope you still think of me.
I know you do.

My eyes are beautiful, she says.
She must dig the haunted, empty look.

My smile is gorgeous, she says.
My tongue has felt those chips and nicks far too often to agree.

My arms look strong, she says.
I am surprised—she’s seen the scars.

My hands stir her, she says.
There is nothing elegant about them.

She loves me too, she says.
Even as we recall all the times I traumatized her.

She will never leave me, she says.
Dear God—that’s what I was afraid of.

She’d never do better than me, she says.
At that, I bite my tongue.

She doesn’t know what I see in her, she says.
And this, I think, is why we keep each other around.

Why is it always the pretty (not the good-looking but the pretty) people that feel they are worthless?