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pip Nov 2020
My body has never deserved me
I am the boyfriend who won’t wash his dishes
Never takes out the trash
And makes fun of you to his friends.
I have never been good enough
To deserve my body
And i am learning.
We are going to couples therapy
And i want to change.
pip Nov 2020
Darling, has it gotten easier?
Do people still stare when you wear shorts?
I am learning how to love the idea of you
It’s hard
But i want you to know i’m trying.
Sometimes i think about you
And how you must look back on my present
Saying to yourself
‘Silly child. What do you know of love?’
You would be right, mostly.
pip Oct 2020
My body is my own. I own my scars and my scrapes and my moles. They are mine. My limbs are mine, my pulse is mine, every cell in my body belongs to me. I smell like sunflowers and fairy kisses and rain and boy.
pip Mar 2020
I fought everything
I loved
So you would never
See me cry
Like I did that day
Again
pip Feb 2020
My pockets
Miss your
Hands.
I cant keep them
As warm as you
Did.
I miss you too.
pip Mar 2019
there are wasps and spiders
crawling all over my skin
and i can’t seem to wash them away
because they hate water
and seem to be even less fond of mirrors
so i can’t win either way.
pip Mar 2019
soon all that will be left of me
is my miles and miles of words
and my lipstick stained
letters.
dearest lean into my shoulder
and let me tell you all about the man in the moon.
he fell in love with the sun
but i’m sure you’ve heard this all before.
the freckles on your face
make up all the constellations in the sky
and maybe some in the sea too.
i’ll trace your eyelids and nose
with the pads of my fingers
and marvel at how daisies and sunlight could be a person.
but i’m breaking apart at the seams
And summer can only stay so long.
we won’t talk about it
because words are too hard to use.
and they always clog my throat anyway.
you are quite scary
with your dead eyes
and small sentences
that you used to scream.
i have taken to biting my nails
instead of crying
and i don’t think it makes much of a difference.
i still can’t breathe either way.
you tell me that it’s easier to bottle up your feelings
but i’ve never really liked bottles
because they make me feel trapped
and alone.
i don’t think it matters that i can’t whistle
and then i remember that if i’m ever lost
i won’t be able to find you again.
i think it all depends on if you want to be found though.
shivers are wracking my body
and my teeth can’t seem to keep apart
i’m scared
god im scared.
and this time
i utterly and truly think im
broken.
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