This is a personal documentation through poetry.
I am learning to look inward now, give myself love when I least want to. I do not live to love others, I live to love myself. I will find and create what is enough for me, and you will learn to let it...
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I ran a fine tooth comb through the visible parts of your body. When it came out clean, I broke skin. I wanted to know you the way no one has. I wanted to know you in ways you didn't. And so I dragged this comb along all parts of you, parts that were darkened and I brought to light. The parts that were soaked in gore, The parts that were stained with a pinkness you struggled to relay. The parts that faintly smelled of truth. The parts I wish you'd rip open and bear for the world to see. It was all too much, the strings of your insides, Warm in my hands, Brought tears to my eyes seeing what I once knew, And what I know now. And my comb broke into pieces. The shattered tool in my hands mocked me. Taking care of a man does not mean he knows how to take care of you. Combing a man's hair does not mean he knows how to comb yours. And turning a man inside out to convince yourself to love him, does not mean he deserves it.
