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Nov 2018
He always wanted more
than who I was
and I questioned if he loved
me or the idea of having
someone to love.
He tried to mold me into
cookie-cutter shapes
that no distorting could
let me fit through
even though I tried.

I thought I was ugly
from all the words he left unsaid.
Even if I begged,
he never ever would tell me.
I didn't mind not
being called beautiful.
I could handle it.
Just a little "you look nice"
would've brought me enough bliss
to last me through.

He tried to make me into
a woman he has dreamt of.
A little housewife,
making home-made tortillas
and calling after the kids
in Spanish words I could never
pronounce correctly.
Though I'd tell him
that's not me, he'd just
reply "not yet."

I was never good enough.
It was who I was
destined to be–
If I were to remain with the
man who never could
even call me pretty.
I'd beg for him to tell
me once, but still he'd
huff his breath and
never ever tell me.

But you don't do that
like he did.
You look at me like
I'm the world and
you're merely an observer
peering through a telescope.
You bring me umbrellas
when it rains and
would never hesitate
to offer me your jacket.

You teach me every day
how I should be treated
by a man who claims to love me.
I'm not a girl meant
to bend a break into a
shape that man has designed.
I am a woman of
her own new and
unique beauty and you're
never ever afraid to tell me.

So, if you ask me
how I feel when you call me
beautiful,
I'd tell you this:
I feel like I'm healing.
Tiana Marie
Written by
Tiana Marie  19/F
(19/F)   
370
 
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