You convinced me that I could be loved
that I was beautiful.

I realize I am without you
but it doesn't stop the want.

Now I'm just a whisper
of the smooth low morning voice
I loved to speak to you with.

Now I'm just the skin
you used to touch, and you'd tell
me you liked it so much.

I haven't eaten in two days
because I'm sick to my stomach
over your lies.

White lines, crushed pills
call my name, begging to numb the pain.

I'd let you in again on my own terms.
I'm always twisting words
remembering when you brought me to tears
your stories, your mind is war torn.

Now you're just another
playing me in some sick game
I've been subjected to before.

I ask why I'm never good enough
but I haven't forgotten my worth.

I am crumpled morning hair, black coffee and poetry.
I am deeply emotional, understanding.
I am filled with wonder, every sunrise and sunset.

I would be the dedicated love
you always wished for.

But here I am, questioning
my own worth
because someone else
is blind to it.

I ache for you,
and yet
I pity you
for not seeing
my worth.