from his mouth comes
words that pummel
and prick,
calls you, “really good friend”
and you shrivel into
your body, disappearing for days.
you know your lane.
you stay in it.
they handpick the pretty girls
with taut breasts, full lips,
and better vision.
you tell yourself it is
your career choice,
your pregnant opinions
on life, love, and money.
you look in the mirror
and see the opposite of allure.
in your belly, you carry his words,
pressed into your back, kneeing
your bladder.
you convince yourself that it
is a loss on his part,
but deep down, you know
you are not the lover
he seeks, just the friend
who changed with him
for two decades, but
loyalty does not
open any doors.
so you fade into darkness
from the words you have heard,
from his space
and he wonders
why you are cut in half,
drained of love,
running away from
him.
“Highly sensitive people are too often perceived as weaklings or damaged goods. To feel intensely is not a symptom of weakness, it is the trademark of the truly alive and compassionate. It is not the empath who is broken, it is society that has become dysfunctional and emotionally disabled. There is no shame in expressing your authentic feelings. Those who are at times described as being a ‘hot mess’ or having ‘too many issues’ are the very fabric of what keeps the dream alive for a more caring, humane world. Never be ashamed to let your tears shine a light in this world.”
― Anthon St. Maarten
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