i’m unable to unpack
the damage those words did to me
at an age
where i was so vulnerable,
so open, so naïve.

i still cry,
i still cut,
i still look at myself in the mirror
and tear my skin off

i still torture myself to their photos.
a printed copy of her face glued to my mirror.
and my heart burns every time she appears on my feed.

i disagree with what you said.
through shameless stares on the street, praise, and adoration.
my confidence grew
where i can finally love myself
and admire me
more than you could that time.

but i think about her every day
the way i lied on your balcony
and cried
the way i chopped my hair
did my nails
and changed my face

all because of one text
“she’s cute, but not like her”