Everything in life was enough
until you realized I wasn't.

I either lose sleep
for you
or
because of you.

As I opened the medicine cabinet
carefully hidden behind a broken mirror,
I discovered transparent orange bottles
with broken childproof tabs on each cap,
concealing diet pills the size of ants.

I replaced the capsules with fully bloomed daisies
and I hope you swallow each petal
and ingest each stem entirely
so you can eat something that,
like you, encompasses beauty.

You nurtured the garden of your mind,
letting the most beautiful parts of you grow
and bloom like healthy tulips in early April,
until a single **** poked through the soil
and continued to spread itself, seed by seed.
One by one, the flowers all began to wilt with grief,
giving way to the **** that plagued your mind.
If you don't have the strength the pluck each ****,
you don't allow for the exquisite flowers to bloom.

I'll act as though this pen is a sword
and carve the words on the blank page before me
until my fingertips bleed the truth
begging to be set free from my wounds deep within.

I do not wish for
a sharp needle of
ink as black as night
to etch eternal
flourished designs
and embellished words
on the canvas of my skin
for it is my humble belief
that nothing in life
should be permanent.

I cracked my bones,
curled my legs,
and bent my spine,
forcing myself to
fit your definition of
human perfection.

I presented my morphed bundle
of brittle bones and stretched skin
before your dark eyes...
and you still walked away.

I was never going to be
good enough for you, was I?
But now that I see what I've become,
I am not good enough for me, either.