She's a page out of a book
She's not real
Her words are so carefully chosen they fooled you.
She's all smoke and mirrors.

She's waiting for someone to read her story and be compelled to believe in her.

She's a ghost.

Now you see her. Now you don't.
She lives inside your blind spots.
Falling away when no one's looking.

But if just one person would hold her gaze.
If you'd just look a little harder and stay awake all night.

Maybe she could be real.
Maybe she wouldn't hate herself anymore.

If you love me, love my darkness.
Love my tears.
Love the hate out of my skin.
It leaches, slowly, from my pores.
Every time you won't touch me when I need it most, you push it back in.

It's hard not to feel worthless when you don't exist.