“Love doesn’t exist” I told myself,
And if it does, it’s not for your taking.
“You can’t just go around asking people to love you,”
I told myself- not when you don’t deserve it.
I repeated the hate over and over again,
Until my very soul disappeared.
The face I saw when I looked back in the mirror
I compared myself beyond repair.
I stopped looking in the mirror.
I couldn’t believe what I had done to myself.
“I think I broke my own heart,” I told a friend
When sitting under the stars on my roof.
“What do you mean?” She said, utterly confused
“I told my heart that love didn’t exist, not for me.”
“My heart was young, beautiful, pure, and I took it
And I told it that it was foul.”
I told the stars they were beautiful,
The trees they were lively,
The birds they were gentle,
But I couldn’t consider myself the same.
And I’m not sure how to put it back.