To the girl who swears she has never been enough,


I have heard you cry until your lungs rattle like the snake announcing itself in the desert, I have listened to the sound your heart makes when it shattered at sunset and takes all night to stitch itself back together again with fraying string. No more.


I have sat where you now sit at the kitchen table, staring at the plate in front of you and wondering if this is how each man has seen you. Your mouth doesn’t water but your eyes begin to. I have crossed my leg tighter, as you do. You ask yourself what defines an animal - if meat is only meat when we say so. No more. I have been with you as you walk down the street, the night announcing itself in the laughs and yells from the bars and the keysi between your fingers. You tell yourself you would feel better with more protection, even though by now you have built up so many walls you can call yourself a mansion. No more.


I have waited for a call by my phone for hours, as you have. I have stared at the ceiling for one hour too long, paced the length of my house for two hours, wandering for three hours straight why I am not worth the ten seconds that it takes to send a message. No more.


You are not the dry-heaves from your stomach that beg you to pull yourself together. You are more. You are not the dessert or the dinner, you are not served on a silver platter, ordered form a menu You are more. You are not street-candy, you are not “hey baby”. You are more. You are not an empty building, or  darkened alley. You are more. You are not counted in the minutes he has chosen to care for you. You are more.


To the girl who swears she has never been enough,
this time,
tell yourself,
No more.
You are more.