He Doesn’t Want Me.

It used to sting—
like sanitizer on an open wound.
A sharp bite that started small,
then grew to consume.

Maybe it’s because I wasn’t pretty enough,
or because I’m too rough, not soft enough.
Still, from rawness, I create—
turning pain into power.

But I had an epiphany today:
it was never my job to make him stay.
Better things lie ahead that’s yet to come
I’ll keep marching forward,
like a soldier to the steady beat
of a snare drum.