why do I still care
that you dated a girl
with my weird,
half-shaved head, haircut?
I still wonder if you
asked her to cut her hair
that way
because you missed
the feeling of fingertips
on fresh buzz

I look back at myself
and I feel shame-
not for the things I’ve done,
or haven’t-
but for not loving myself
deeply and always,
for selling out to insecurities
and letting others tell me
what defined my essence of self,
for not seeing my soul
clearly, and for not
being my own
biggest risk and reward

the only thing you ever
gave me were ****** up
naval cavities and an
inexplicable understanding
of what it means to lay
in someone’s arms
and feel completely alone