Five years ago, I sat before the mirror
freshly blue-haired.
Cheeks flushed pink with satisfaction.
It had been quite a while since I had felt
so beautiful.
And for a moment,
I was.
No one will want you.
The words electric in my spine,
my mother, well-intentioned.
No one will ever hire you.
No one will want you.
Ten years ago, I walked along the freeway
hedging my bets.
Cheeks flushed pink with summer heat.
It had been quite a while since I had filled
my prescriptions.
And for a moment,
I was happy.
No one will want you.
Zombies are better than Molotovs.
My welfare healthcare, well-intentioned.
No one wants your kind of trouble.
No one will want you.
Fifteen years ago, I pressed a little harder.
Tearaway skin.
Cheeks flushed pink with desperation.
It had been quite a while since I had asked
myself such questions.
And for a moment,
I knew my truth.
No one will want you.
You shouldn't be so desperate for attention.
My closest friend, well-intentioned.
Baggage doesn't do you any favors.
No one will want you.
Twenty years ago, I avoided eye contact
staring straight ahead.
Cheeks flushed pink with humiliation.
It had been quite a while since I had dressed
the way they wanted.
And for a moment,
I embraced it.
No one will want you.
You'll have to lose some weight eventually.
My father, well-intentioned.
No one wants to kiss a fat girl.
No one will want you.
Tonight, I lay my head against your shoulder
lazily embrace.
Cheeks flushed pink beneath your lips.
It has been quite a while since I echoed
a single ugly word.
And in these moments,
I forget them.
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