after giving myself love
in all the right places
i feel as though i've left myself
during a one night stand.
why do i feel this way?
why do i feel the need
to turn the lights off -
so that i'm not reminded
of my scars?
scars that one day, he'll see.
scars that tattle on my demons,
an unspoken introductory
to my madness.
madness that i wish he never knew.
how i wish these scars would fade
with the day that brought them.
how i wish wounds would lose their color
when the day is done, like a sunset.
how my skin is like a peach,
delicate and bruised, and soft,
as the boys would say.
why must i still find
the courage to be soft,
when you have given me
all the reason to harden?
what you called love was a blizzard,
and i was waiting hoplessly
for a spring that never came.
how i cried, in my loss of sanity,
that i'm now convinced you hid from me,
and you just stared,
looking down,
as if i was some pathetic, weak, soft, little thing.
how i just found familiarity, not love,
in the way you would walk feet ahead of me,
like you were embarrassed
to be seen with me.
how i couldn't count
on one hand, the amount of
nights i laid next to you,
crying myself to sleep,
and no whimper could worry you awake.
how you were blind with your touch,
i was starved.
how you were deaf with your words,
i was broken.
so then, why did he caress my hand,
and call me "soft"?
because i will never harden like you.
because i am in spite of you.
because my delicateness,
in spite of your blizzard,
takes so much more courage,
than it could have ever taken
to love me
the way i needed to be loved.
