Broken girl I can see the way your
bones bend under the weight of years of regrets
for you it’s always why
never why not
and I can see the foundation of your forced optimism
beginning to crumble

When there are only bad days
remember all the good you have done
remember that there was once a time you didn’t hate yourself

Broken girl I promise you there will come a day when you feel hopeful
someday the sun will feel like
early morning kisses on your cheeks
and you’ll welcome it into your life again

The world is full of beautiful things
and darling you have always been one of them
cross my heart and hope to die
there will come a day where simply being alive
will no longer feel like fighting to breathe beneath water
as long as you stay alive long enough
to see it

When I was fifteen all I ever thought about
Was killing myself
And how I was in love with my best friend
But she didn’t love me back
It’s been six years and I’m so happy
I no longer feel a need
To drain my veins
I can take my medication without counting the number of pills
I no longer grow my nails out
To drag them across thin skin
And maybe I’m struggling right now
But I no longer want to die
So I guess I can call it a win

On nights like these I find myself glancing longingly
At harsh pink scars
Wishing they’d hurry up and disappear
So I can officially close that chapter of my life
But recovery is hard
Staying clean is hardest
And I’ve never wanted more than to erase that part
Of my past

Recovery is not all meditation and green juice
It’s itching skin and irritability
It’s wanting to expose your veins for no reason at all
But needing to remind yourself you don’t do that anymore
It’s accepting the acts you did to yourself
No matter how ashamed you are

I’m proud of six years
Even if sometimes I itch to feel the sting of metal on skin
Even when I find myself digging my nails into my palms
I know that six years ago I could barely make it six hours
So I’ll acknowledge that recovery is hard
I deserve to be proud of how far I’ve come
No matter what anyone else may say

I have always been hard to love
But am quick to fall in love
My father called me tree hugger growing up
Because I have always cared deeply
for everything living
Expect for myself

All the boys that broke my heart
Said I was too hard to open
All I heard was that I’m not pretty enough to work for
Maybe that’s been the truth all along

Now I break my own heart to save them from trying
It hurts less if I’m the one pulling the trigger
So I tell people I just haven’t found the one yet
When I know deep down I’m a lock that never had a key
Nobody will ever fit me perfectly
And I need to start accepting that

Growing up my father taught me to love myself
Through thick and thin
As long as I could find love within myself
I would be okay

He taught me to stand up for myself
Taught me that sometimes I’d have to be both
the damsel in distress
And the hero

I was raised gently
My head is filled with memories of laughter
Summer evenings outside on the swing set he built me
Weekend mornings filled with princess crowns
He allowed my mind to roam wherever it found inspiration

And as I grew he grew with me
We learned how to face life together
I never had to deal with a problem alone
And even when I decided to
I knew he would always be there
To catch me if I needed him

My father has always been an angel
I’m blessed to know unwavering love
My childhood was filled with warm smiles and soft embraces
Even in adulthood I’ve never known anything short of respect
And care that knows no bounds

Thanks to my father I’ll know how to love my children gently
When the time comes for me to be a mother I know I’ll be ready
Because my father taught me best
And I hope to show my children love
The same way my father has always shown me

Do you think Aphrodite ever felt less than?
Do you think she looked at herself and questioned what she would look like
With hip bones—
Maybe she ran her fingers across her chest at night
Pressing deeply against her collarbones to make sure they’re still there
Sometimes I wonder if I’d feel better if I was a goddess
But I know that even Aphrodite herself would tell me I already am one—
Maybe that’s why she’s the goddess of love
Beauty isn’t enough if you can’t find room for yourself in your heart
I’m still trying to remember that

I don’t believe in love because one of my earliest memories connected to it is the day my dad moved out and my mom’s new boyfriend moved in. The same day I realized my dad would never again tuck me into my bed, the same day I realized he would no longer be there when I woke up or had a nightmare or wanted him to push me on the swings in the backyard. Remnants of him disappeared so fast I questioned if he ever lived there to begin with. To this day my little brother doesn’t remember a time when our dad roamed the halls of our first childhood home. Most days I envy his ability to look back and not remember the life before. Most of my memories are stored into my head as before and after the breakup. I have to rack my brain to remember if my dad was on that trip to the beach I remember so fondly, or if my stepdad was the one watching my siblings and I build sandcastles.

I don’t believe in love because I watched my dad break his own heart over and over when it came to my mother because to him she was the only woman that mattered. To him she hung the moon and painted the stars and brought sunlight to his life. I remember him listening to here without you by three doors down on repeat. I remember how he didn’t have an apartment at first so he stayed on my grandmothers couch. I remember being happy to play with my cousins when we visited my dad but not understanding why we had to go to my grandmothers every time he picked us up.

I don’t believe in love because my dad and my mom had a fairytale love story, one of those ones you only see in movies. The type that seems like it was pulled right from the script of a romantic comedy, like the universe was hell bent on them saying together, even when everything in the world was trying to keep them apart.

I don’t believe in love because both of my parents got remarried to people who were never comparable to each other. There are still days where I catch my dad staring at my mom with love in his eyes, it’s been sixteen years but I swear he’d take her back in a heartbeat if she asked. Sometimes I catch her looking longingly at old photos, her thumb gently tracing the outlines of my dads face from when he was younger and life hadn’t hardened him into the man he is now.

I don’t believe in love because on the night of my 21st birthday you looked at me from the passenger seat of your car and smiled shyly as you told me you liked me but three days later you told me that we just wouldn’t work out.

I don’t believe in love because after you told me that you liked me back you said that if I had said something three months earlier we definitely would’ve been together. I don’t know how I tainted myself in those few months but my biggest regret will always be being too big of a coward to tell you before I did.

I don’t believe in love because you shattered my heart and gave me false hope and stopped talking to me for two months without a single explanation as to why but I can’t stop looking at you like you hung the moon and painted the stars. You still bring sunlight into my life and I’m finally beginning to realize why my father still looks at my mother like she’s the only girl he’ll ever truly love after everything they went through.

You tell me that you’ve been loving
Old school rap lately
And send me a song that you promise has been a bop
For a month now
And suddenly I’m reminded that you love
To change your tastes

How you listen to a song on repeat until the lyrics
Leave a sour taste in your mouth
And suddenly you want nothing to do
With it

Maybe you got tired of listening to me
Late nights in your car and movies on your couch
Became stale
And you looked for something new
To peak your interest

I have a habit of loving a song forever
Once I fall in love with it I never stop listening
Maybe that’s why I still feel torn up
And you’ve moved on and we don’t talk anymore
But you never miss an opportunity
To show me your changed taste
Each month
New songs filling up my Spotify
I make playlists with titles like heartbreak
And hazel eyes
Entirely made up of your music that changes
Like the seasons