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This is not a poem, it is a midnight reminder of why I must take up boxing.

Self-respect is not me dismissing my own emotions, it is not excusing unprotected sex and disrespectful texts because the climax is better than the silence; no--- self-respect is not me crawling down the street to fake-sleep beside your smug form, only so that I may cab home the next day and nap away the pain; self-respect is not what I have given myself these past eight months, but I promise to fight now because if you believe this poorly labeled, loosely constructed relationship allows you to **fuck her with your clothes on in the corner of the dance floor** while I am five feet from your disgraceful piece of shit self, then I can find the strength to delete every pleasant memory from the place in my brain that's been holding me back; there are so many inches of my body and my soul that you will never know (*not that you even thought to pry*) and I will keep them safe for the next deserving guy
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Written by
alexandra-emmalie
Published
Jan 27, 2015
Lines·Words
29·167
Notes

This is not for you, but for me.

Tags
#personal
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