This is My New Endeavor

I wanna get better.

He sings,
and I want to know
if he knows
how he’s talking
to me.

I wanna get better.

Like it’s not the mantra
of a generation;
like being in one’s head
is an every day
malady
something simple like
“monotony”.

I wanna get better.

So so bad;
I want to be able to look at myself
and not pinch
layers of skin;
I want to look at myself and smile again.
I want to look at my reflection
and go:
There I am.”

I wanna get better.

To understand that
“healing”
is not necessarily complete
because I’m
”with” someone.
That recovery is happening
before falling in love again.
Being a girl-
friend
will not be
the puzzle piece answer to all of my
problems.

I wanna get better.

And stop with the comparisons.
I want to love each
inch of myself
with the fervor of
the seraphim.
I want to crave my own company
the way I crave to hold
another’s hand.
I want to love what I stand for
and the person I am.
And that is not
them.

I wanna get better.

I wanna erupt into fire
and wear my ashes like badges of honor.
Not even think their names
let alone,
remember them.
I want to be defined as
somebody in the now
and not a poet stuck on the
“then.”

I wanna get better.

Get closer with God,
family,
and friends.
Love
without fear of falling
for false intentions.
Want to learn about Him
and myself
and find fellowship in
a church
I want to attend.

I wanna get better.

And though I don’t want to
need their validation,
it’d be nice to be looked at
and have someone say:
“She’s only human and therefore
not perfect,
but my God, does she seem
content.”
And maybe by then

I will be better.

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