it’s nights like these i feel the loneliest,
when my house is cold
and silent
and i start thinking about the nights
we spent together,
your breath and arms warming me up,
your voice soft against my hair;
darling, when i was with you,
you made both the cold
and the silence feel unwelcome.

other girls always get the guys who
take the stars out of the sky for them;
guys who wrap their arms
and their love around their shoulders,
keeping them warm at night;
guys who kiss all their bruises better;
guys who’d go anywhere, do anything they ask.

i get the guys whose
rough mouths taste like cigarettes;
guys who only say they love me after ***;
guys who don’t touch any other part of me
besides my body;
guys who keep in their shirt pockets a list of girls
and i’m always next to be crossed off.

and every day, i ask myself
why i’m not worthy enough.

i watched the sun glisten
off the top of the water
as it made small ripples
the size of locks of my hair,
and i thought of you.

you too, like the sun,
are only an illusion;
the sun is a million miles away
but still seems to affect
the water in such a beautifully
tragic manner,
just as you are never here
but can still keep me
yearning for your warmth.

tell me why you left me alone
when i needed you the most.

why do i insist
on giving myself away to people
who push back
with everything they have,
who take what they want from me
and then toss me aside,
depriving me
of my lovely parts,
leaving me with
only my bitter ones?
(and i wonder why
i’m so sad all the time.)

when i was seven and i fell off my bike
and scraped up my knees,
daddy told me that pain is just
my brain telling my body what to feel.

so maybe if i put my mind to it
and try hard enough,
this sadness will leave my body,
this hurt i feel eating at my heart
will slowly ebb away,
the tears rolling down my cheek
will be dry.

and maybe you will
become just a memory.

i was sixteen when i stopped
believing in fairy tales
and all the magic, the mystique,
faded from my innocent eyes.
i was not a princess
and prince charming wasn’t standing
at the bottom of my tower,
calling my name,
beckoning for me to let down my hair.
there was no knight in shining armor
to save me from the grips of evil
or sadness
or heartbreak
or tears—
all of these things were inevitable,
unavoidable,
and nobody came to kiss me
out of my deep sleep or
sweep me off my glass-slippered feet.
happy endings only existed
between the pages of story books,
dreams that never came true.
real life was tangible,
it grabbed me by the hands
and refused to let go.
(so tell me why i’m still hopelessly
searching for my ever after.)

maybe if i was
planted in the ground,
given light
and enough water,
i could grow
and be beautiful too,
but i am a person,
not a flower.