I am not desirable. I have big thighs, a big ***, a round stomach, cellulite, strecht marks, self harm scars, a couple bruises from pinching and a couple tattoos. My eyes are surrounded by dark circles I try and fail to cover and my mouth is filled with insults and bad jokes. My grades are not as good as they could be and my mom is probably ashamed she knows I give away my body to whoever just look at my direction. Because I need reassurance. I need approval from everyone else. And that ******* *****.
And when he said you wanted to **** my friend first, but couldn't because she met someone else. You went to me. And I took you. And I showed you. And you kissed me. And I liked you. And now I'm broken, but I'd still have you.

Maybe it's the holidays,
Or maybe it's just my luck,
Maybe I've been searching for it,
And maybe this time I won't run,
But I've got all this love,
Hidden, compressed and broken,
That my gut is asking to share,
And yesterday I dreamt you said I was pretty,
And I felt like it for once in such a long time,
And even though it was just a dream and I probably hardly cross your mind,
It was nice to hear you say it,
Even when your lips are as far away as they can be,
And your heart is taking a turn right,
While I'm in the corner to the left.

I know where it hurts, how it hurts and how to make it stop.

Just for a moment.

I've learnt to let it go and keep my head up, cry to myself and then fall sleep with my tears dried.

I've grown in width and in pounds but my remorse has gone thinner.
But don't get me wrong,
I still hate myself.

I just know how to pretend, how to breathe and how to live with it.

I've grown used to the demons, and they can't **** me anymore.
But don't get me wrong,
That doesn't mean I can't.

You don't want me and I don't want you, but you listened. You care. And it is making it complicated. It is causing me trouble to know you are there, whenever I need it. It is making it complicated to feel your lips every know and then and having flashbacks of those rough 30minutes we share every couple weeks because we need to let it out. It is also complicated to be this drawn into the abyss and knowing I could just call you to pull me out. Because no man is an island and no pain is an ocean.

But you listen, and you care.
Even when I complicate things.
Even when you are with her.

Will I ever love tender, sweet, good? Will someone ever love me tender, sweet, good?
Will my heart that is broken ever be brought back together with a single touch?
Will my soul that is ripped apart still be mended?
Am I ever going to find another soul to spend these awful nights with?

Or will I just keep pretending I know it all, I can all, I do all..

I'm filled with stretchmarks. So many you might think I could fall into one of them. It's like these cracks on my skin want to imitate what's going on in my heart.

My mom told me we could get laser done so they'll go away. She also doesn't really want to remember how broken I was, just like my skin. She always say'd it'd go away.

You also have stretchmarks, I suppose. But I can't picture you falling into them. I see you painting flowers on them and letting everyone kiss them. Kiss your wounds, but never anyone elses.

Maybe someday you'd want to see my stretchmarks, and maybe you'll help me paint flowers on them. Maybe with your voice, with your hands, with your words.

Or maybe just, just.

I should have held you tight when I could. I should have thanked you for everything you did for me, for everything you wanted for me and everything you helped me to reach. I should have called you more to ask you questions of my school work. I should have kept those books. I should have counted the amount of birthday cakes you bought me and give you a kiss for each. I should have been every friday evening at you place and help you with your puzzles. I should have told them not to let you drive. I should have told my grandma she was so lucky to find you instead of wonder what she physically saw in you. I should have asked you about the time the guerrilla almost killed you and see you laugh when you told the story for the fifth time. I should have learnt how to be okay without your presence... But i didn't.

And now it's too late.