Dear the man who loves me,
I'm sorry that my mouth doesn't form around the word 'want' very easily.
That in all my time on this earth
I have only felt the kindness of people on tv screens and in the pages of safe books that I hide on the shelves of my heart.
That in every case that someone has touched me it has left scars.
That whatever may be left of the beating organ in my chest
Is held together with duct tape
And tense hope.
I'm sorry that I will constantly need reassurance that you love me.
That I'll constantly feel like a weight
That's carried in your palms or on your mind-
dear god, please don't be afraid to stop
I'm not so fragile despite my cracks.
I can take the blunt judgement on my shoulders
I've been told they're wide enough.
I want to leave tea filled strainers on the counter,
My necklaces throughout your home as if a small sign
Of me saying you're mine.
I don't take sugar in my coffee and I drink orange juice only in the morning.
That in a span of a few days,
I will have memorized what your back feels like and what side you sleep on.
I'm sorry that I won't ever be comfortable in my own skin
And my mind will try to kill me over and over again
That I won't be able to draw a straight line
Because my body decides that staying still is not for me.
That I'll tell you I'm not enough
I'm too much
I'm too little.
But most of all,
Dear man who loves me,
I'm sorry I will never be able to tell you
How much your love means to me
And how,
For the moments that we are together,
I forget what hating myself feels like.
YOU ARE READING
My hearts million words
PoesíaI don't expect anyone to read this. I'm kind of hoping no one does. But they feel better on paper than in my fragile heart.
