I wanted you to hold my heart - not my body.
Sometimes I wonder if something happened to me as a child that I can't remember. Something that messed me up this bad, something that made me like this.
You're impure words cloud my judgment; I find myself filthy, disfigured by some unloyal being.
There's no way you didn't know what you were doing to me. You kept maiming me because you knew I'd reprieve you everytime. There are hideous results that mar my figure.
For you I am modest - I am clean.
Even at my worst. As I look in the mirror I see my sickly reflection stare back. Looking gross, but knowing you would have loved to see me this way. Mauve eye bags and swollen lips - the pink at the edges of my eyes that show I'm alive - yet I've never felt so gone.
I have found a new muse, I no longer miss being loved - being held.
Maybe we weren't as similar as I thought.
I ache to be perceived.
Who am I?
Wrong answers only
