suffering didn’t
suit me very well.
torture was baggy
around my waist
and agony was
ill fitting around my legs.
i sacrificed beauty,
i sacrificed sacrifice
and i sacrificed
misery.
stanzas
drop out of hair
when i brush it ;
i think i’ll
cut it again.
cut my hair and
cut the weight ,
cut the sacrifice.
wear my hair
messy
and take photos
of my skin the sunlight.
find shades
of golden
in that skin;
find shades of
lovely and wonderful
and my eyes.
listen to slow
songs
and fall back
in love with myself.
i’ll hold hands
with the mirror i once
wrestled with.
and cold,
my hands are cold.
i touch my face,
watch my skin ripple.
nothing heals
like eye contact with myself.
look my girl
in the eye and tell
her i love her now.
i couldn’t say
why i hesitated,
but there’s not
much i think about
except how i have
come to believe i am enough.
i will sing to
myself
about the beauty that i
sacrificed.
i will sing to myself
and never let anyone listen.
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