#ripthelastpetalinhalf

[308words-blog]

Self-Love

by ALEXIS BATES

He kissed the bend of my knee, and I thought it was love. But I am not the kind of girl men fall in love with. I am the girl they call when they’re lonely. I am the one they cry on then fuck away the sadness with. I am the girl they peel themselves off of in the morning and have the urge to kiss on the forehead before leaving. I’m the only girl men don’t feel guilty about leaving. If I was a piece of literature, I’d be a haiku.

Men like honesty and simplicity, but they don’t love it. Nobody loves honest, blunt girls that are bossy during sex. Men love collecting unique girls the way I collect rocks and leaves and flowers. I wish I’d gotten a rock or leaf or flower from every boy that told me I was different. Instead, I got a hickey or maybe a hoodie kicked under my bed. At least it wasn’t herpes.

He kissed the bend of my knee, and I thought it was love because he was covered in tattoos. Surely a man covered in permanence should be able to commit. I am a lot of things, but apparently a tattoo is not one of them.

When the man I thought might love me left, I took a shower in an attempt to wash the essence of him off of me. I made a cup of coffee with too much cream in it. I sat down to write him, then decided he wasn’t worth the words. Instead of writing him, I am writing myself. I am so much more than a poem. I’m more than a one-night stand every night. I am soft and alive which is more than can be said for the man covered in tattoos. He doesn’t deserve to know that about me.

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Alexis Bates, 18, is an upstart poet living in Baltimore, MD.

[paramourblessings]

I feel so broken and all the pain is spilling out but it has nowhere to go so it just coats my body until it's painfully apparent.

12:41 am and I don’t smoke but god damn I need a cigarette