My eyes meet my own eyes
Not for a long time
I question the girl in the pictures
That have my name written on the back
I wish that was me again
And if you snapped a photo of this moment
Tomorrow
I'd wish that was me again
I don't know what I think of myself
Or my skin
Who would say
I only want someone to love
The flesh on my bones
I want someone to love my dusty corners
and things that were out of place
without saying things like "you are too much"
Versions of myself from days before,
they are always better than now,
and I would never ever see myself,
the way I needed too,
Ironically for myself,
I was never enough.