I see a real beauty
wait, that's not me
but my sister
a shabby ol' me
trying to catch you
everywhere I go,
but you seem to
avoid me in
I look again and see
sometimes I wish the
one staring back
is not me
my reflection is sad
are you mad,
that you're me?
It’s hard to be in love with someone
that doesn’t even love you back.
this is not a poem confessing my love for you,
it’s just words to express how i feel.
and i’m sorry for writing about you again.
I’m sorry for catching feelings between texts and words,
i should have at least guarded my heart a bit more
and remember that people’s words never really mean a damn thing.
but these feelings whatever they are,
whatever it is it’s pushing me over the edge.
and i do believe that’s ironic considering
i spend most of my days thinking about what it would be like to sleep with you
i’m not talking about fucking you,
i’m just talking about sleeping next to you,
and listening to sound of your breathing
listening to the sound of your heart beating.
the thought of it stings like salt to a wound.
you left and found happiness without me
see now, i really thought i was the one that could make you happy.
You stand before the mirror;
bare as the day you were born.
Examining yourself closely,
becoming familiar with the curves
and blemishes that make you who you are,
trying to be content,
to be comfortable with
what makes you different.
Your mother is the perfect reflection
of what a woman should be,
she is beautiful and you admire her,
her strength is one that this world knows
all too well as it tries its
best to break her.
You don’t know the act of self-hatred
until the day the boy you like
doesn’t like you back
because he finds someone else
prettier than you.
You start to question yourself,
looking at yourself with hatred
and not with love.
Picking and pulling at your skin
as if that would help with the poison
of your insecure mind.
You start comparing yourself to her;
thinking that there’s something wrong with you
solely because of the rejection
of just one boy.
You lose your identity trying to be
someone else, dressing to impress,
speaking to get a reaction.
That innocent light in you dies,
as you start to know the world a little too well.
Stop and enjoy the feeling of being young,
the feeling of an innocence
that the world has not yet touched.
The darkness has consumed me
The malodour clinging to my rags
How did i become this?
Tormentors of vile belonging
Dwelling In the cavity where the roses once grew
Oh you should have seen the roses
Pristine and optomistic
They grew skyward ever chasing the warm sensuality
That filled the mind and body
Watered with the best of self
Tracing the time
Where water became poison
And light became black
I find myself in the crossroads with you
Where my turn of fate became a fatal turn
My thorns magnified
The creeping fèeling that all things selfless
Begin with self deprication
And selfless is a virtue
The roses cleared from their home
One by one with every good intention
My garden had become a graveyard
And time became a dreadful thought
To have eternity in the dark
So that your light could shine the brighter
He broke your heart and it’s left you confused.
You retrace the steps of the relationship,
trying to get an understanding of where you went wrong.
You think to yourself that maybe you were too nice.
All those times you forgave him.
you’re the safe girl, the one he dumps his problems on,
the one he runs to when there is no one else.
And you’ve never realised till now that
you’ve always been his back up plan.
But you can’t help it, you grew up in a family
where your opinions were silenced,
you practised how to bite your tongue
when the words leaving will be hurtful.
And you know that he doesn’t deserve you,
still you continue to forgive him,
still you love him with everything
not knowing that you’re giving him all this love
and saving none for yourself.
And you know that you’re not supposed to
keep him warm but he’s always been so cold—
so you became a bonfire, and pretended that I didn't hurt.
You have spent a majority of your adolescent life
trying to get over someone, being heartbroken
and desolated but this time is different.
This time you have no anchor to rest your aches in
no angry reminders of why you shouldn’t be with him,
no broken bottles and text messages to aid in
this time, you weren’t dipped in toxicity and lies
you weren’t mislead into believing him
not loving you was good enough…
this time he loved you, even if he never admitted it.
and you loved him in a concrete sureness
you’re still trying to comprehend.
your bodies fit together like porcelain and white gold
Fragile and steady in all of each others movements
Lovely in every hug his laugh reminded
you of old home videos his smile controlled your heart rate
and his arms only ever felt like forever.
He dipped his essence into you like a finger in a lake
You don’t know how to stop the waves
You don’t know how to get over someone
who didn’t chase you away
Losing him is purely circumstantial
He was gone as swiftly as he entered
And the ripples he triggered still haven’t stopped.
You’ve always been accustomed to heartbreak
But this is a different kind.
And you don’t know where to put your hands anymore.
Inbox full of lustful men.
I am disgusted at my need to entertain them.
I pray for love, hope,
but I haven’t found it yet.
I guess this is what I get,
a damaged girl begging strangers to love her
because she doesn’t believe she’s good enough
for God to love her.
I do my best to believe that you love me
despite my imperfections.
I do my best, but I fail.
I guess I have fallen from Grace.
A boy telling me how much he craves me,
I will get by just fine.
I try to ignore what’s in my heart;
the hunger for the love of Our Father.
I guess I have indeed lost my faith.
A couple Instagram praises
I am no longer a insecure worn out suicidal girl.
I just need time to think.
I don’t actually want to die.
The Bible tells me you are close
to those that suffer from a broken heart.
I sometimes hold onto that
but I am drowning.
God, where are you?
I am tired.
He had told me that my body was beautiful...
He said that his favorite part about me was my stomach...
As I sat before him, bare skin, one hand covering my midsection.
He then proceeded to joke about the way my lower stomach 'jiggles'...
As if I wasn't already aware.
And I know he was just trying to encourage "body confidence".
But in my mind I heard the words of ex-boyfriends
And concerned family members echoing his comments.
So, even though he never said it, or even came close...
All I heard was the same thing that had been drilled into my esteem for 19 years;
"Well, maybe if she'd lose a little weight..."
At 13, My grandmother smacked my stomach.
While laughing, she said to me,
"You're getting fat."
As a freshman, my grandfather placed a hand on my shoulder,
Looked at my stomach in disapproval, and said,
"Ky, you know, you're getting pretty big."
I could wear my dad's pants by age 12,
And then grew into my mom's by the time I turned 14.
Somewhere around the time I was 15,
My depression swallowed me, and my waistline grew.
I weighed 185lbs by my 17th birthday.
That was the first time a guy I was talking to,
Pulled up to my house, took one look at me,
Called me a "Pig", and left my sight.
Online, A guy commented on my picture,
"Who let the dogs out?"
I gradually sunk even deeper into depression...
In turn - I had slowly gained more weight...
And took fewer body pictures.
Freshly 18, and I thought I had found love.
I thought the size of my waist was finally overlooked...
But then the man I had almost gave my name for,
Began to tell me to put my clothes on after I showered...
Or after we had sex.
I was 5'9", 215lbs, and had just turned 19 years old.
And when that same man broke my heart...
I was devastated, destroyed,
And had been left feeling unattractive.
I went on a search to be wanted...
But it wasn't until I was finally wanted,
that I realized I didn't want it...
I wanted to be hurt.
I wanted someone I wanted to destroy me.
I needed to feel some sort of pain.
It was all I knew.
So I chased after men that i knew would hurt me,
But I always ran away if it didn't hurt just right,
And then blamed them when I ran, for hurting me.
That was when I smoked crystals...
They made me numb to my emotions,
And in turn, made me lax on my ideals.
Still... Those crystals quickly tore away my weight...
I fell from 215lbs to 150lbs in as few as 5 months;
And convinced myself that my thinner waistline
Is ultimately what had defined my happiness.
I told myself, 'I am finally pretty',
And began to take pictures of my body.
I fed off the flattery on social sites to build my ego.
I had expected to finally stay happy...
I was no longer 'fat' and I had thought,
"I'm finally pretty enough to be loved."
All growing up...
Visiting my grandparents had meant:
Being ashamed of the numbers on the scale.
I'd be reminded of my growing waistline...
Or how pretty I would be if it shrunk.
I just wanted them to say I was pretty enough.
I needed them to, so I could justify my new diet...
While blowing smoke and inhaling diamonds;
It was like I had been breathing out the pounds and ounces in each cloud of smoke -
Or putting sharpened rocks into my nostrils...
Until they fell to my waist and shredded away every inch.
When my grandfather lost his memories,
I made the 3 hours drive to care for my grandparents...
I was feeding my Grandfather,
And I was called on by his wife.
You can imagine my surprise,
When my grandmother snapped my attention from her husband -
Despite Alzheimer's always causing her to forget my name -
She looked into my eyes and said to me:
"Kyla, You need to gain some more weight."
Now I think I understand
What Melanie Martinez meant,
When she asked the question,
"Is it true that pain is beauty?"