"look at me,
please", i ask
"tell me what you see"
am i still the one you want?
what changed?
if i show you
all the cuts and bruises,
all the small imperfections;
if i show you
my wide-open heart
(cut open from top to bottom);
if the blood, flowing out,
sings of the haunting ghosts and demons
of the forsaken parts
of my body and soul;
"look at me",
i plead.
i scream. then:
i whisper, through my tainted lips,
rose-red, newly.
tell me now
tell me honestly
wasn't i enough?
what was it?
not pretty enough,
not smart enough,
not keen enough,
not ...
not good enough?
tell me, please
so i could change.
i want to change.
i don't want to be,
as always,
a second,
a rebound,
a back-up choice.
i'm trying so hard
to be THE ONE.
i promise you,
i can pretend
i can be the one you want,
the one you can't live without,
the one you love.
just please,
tell me so i can practice.
what did i do wrong?
YOU ARE READING
You hold my heart (still)
Poesieour little mythology A collection of short poems and prose I've been working on these for the last two years, and finally felt good enough to collect, rewrite and edit it, so here we go. I'm finally done. And moved on. New chapter coming.
