Self-Destructive
She disappears, anticipating them leaving first. Compunction and insecurities making her burst. He’ll nestle one better, it’s eventual The memories and dissolved potential Stir but beneath, the soul is simmering Desperate to turn back to the beginning. This is it; she’s punched out. He’ll forget what she’s all about. She’ll forget too, so can’t play the victim, She’s not edgy like a pierced ceptam. But she’s not powdered with ringlet curls She’s one of those self-destructive girls. Starved for affection, not attention Her body is tired, dares not to mention. She knows she has at least something to offer Yet they never measure up and then they toss her. Her optimism and faith in men will subside Upon discovering they all have secrets to hide. Damn their kisses travel like venom. As does the truth, in passing they mention. Used up like a diner’s bottle of ketchup Served on the side, trying to keep her head up. Not for self-pride but strictly survival Her revolving mistakes, her greatest rival. But it’s not all internal, there’s much on the surface To shape her and quake her, tainting her purpose. She attracts married men which is a new repulsion He mistakes her as a new flavor to indulge in. So she flees, then cries for his naïve significant other She’s surely not the first he tried to pull under their covers. Blames herself for her friendly aura, Continuing to self-destruct on the floor— Ugh! She “accept[s] the love [she] think[s] [she] deserves.” Anyone who tolerate her sarcasm and extra curves. Unworthy of more or the next tier up He says she’s pretty, another beer up. He smokes in excess and doesn’t like her friends Takes her out when he’s inclined, really just depends Occasionally calls her beautiful which she humbly accepts In the same breath condescends her, illuminating her regrets. He’s balding and selfish and quite domineering One would think by now she’d exhaust from adhering. She’s even had friends whisper she’s not enough Hardly exert effort until their things get tough Then they drain her of all her support This comradery life, wants to abort But she scrolls the jukebox for one more song A hopeful cadence won't take long Ascending her up and bringing her back Filling her with what she feels she lacks Her self-destruction was just a tune Even the darkness possesses a moon.
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AuthorChef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart... Archives
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