Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

I wish I could remember what it was like feeling good enough.
Not constantly comparing myself to artificial friends and wishing I had light hair and blue eyes. 
Because that’s what he likes
Yet out of all of his former girlfriends they were tall skinny blondes with stunning blue eyes. No goals in life.
Because that’s what he likes
I’m a shorter ,dark haired ,kind eyed woman.
I have feelings.
I strive to make him happy. I have goals
Is that what he wants?
Back rubs, tired face listening to his curvy thoughts and memories about his childhood, to seeing his tears as he apologizes for his actions.
Wiping them away. 
Is that what he wants?
But he tells me,”you should lighten your hair”, “if you feel bad about yourself, workout babe”, I can’t tell him how I feel because it makes him angry. No mushy. 
Who is he?
Still listening to him complain and taking in every mean thing he says because when it hits my brain it turns into flowers. Like one way out, but the opposite in. 
Who is he.
Why can’t I be happy with who I am, why does he have to “look but not touch”? Why isn’t he satisfied with what’s in front of him? I love him. I really do. 
Because he’s what I like. Because he’s what I want. Who am I ?