40. Poppy Wells

40

Poppy Wells

I didn’t know what it was about me,

why the imperfections

and the cracks in my skin

captured my mind with such force,

unwilling to surrender control back to me.

Why my wrists and my thighs sung sweet melodies,

when all I wanted to do was scream

until my lungs bled.

Why these eyes no longer saw in color,

yet managed pick up every error in me .

I didn’t know what about me,

that was so hard to love.

I didn’t know what it was about me,

that made me feel like this.

So tired,

so broken .

I stared in that mirror,

at a face I no longer recognized.

Disappointment looked back at me,

yet all I saw

was little

unlovable

me .