“In retrospect, I don’t think you ever really liked me in the first place, you just liked the idea of what you could mold me to be.
I could never have been your “Disney princess.”
I can’t sing or even dance for that matter, I’m not soft,
but I sure am fragile (whether I am willing to admit it or not.)
I’m not easy on the eyes, mind, or soul.
I yell, I cry, but at least I feel,
At least I feel alive.
I will never be your TV Sitcom Girlfriend.
I like black too much, and spoken poetry.
Messy art, words, and hair.
Tear stains and bite marks cover my auto-biography.
You never did care for the me who cries when you don’t text her back.
Nor the me whose foot shakes incessantly,
You told her to stop.
You told her to be quiet.
You brushed her an apology with you right hand, while your left was busy opening new wounds.
I am so sorry, really,
but she is I and I cannot play a token in your make-believe-happily-ever-after anymore.”
I could never have been your “Disney princess.”
I can’t sing or even dance for that matter, I’m not soft,
but I sure am fragile (whether I am willing to admit it or not.)
I’m not easy on the eyes, mind, or soul.
I yell, I cry, but at least I feel,
At least I feel alive.
I will never be your TV Sitcom Girlfriend.
I like black too much, and spoken poetry.
Messy art, words, and hair.
Tear stains and bite marks cover my auto-biography.
You never did care for the me who cries when you don’t text her back.
Nor the me whose foot shakes incessantly,
You told her to stop.
You told her to be quiet.
You brushed her an apology with you right hand, while your left was busy opening new wounds.
I am so sorry, really,
but she is I and I cannot play a token in your make-believe-happily-ever-after anymore.”
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