Admitting It

It is June:
a time for brides,
and I
have bought three new outfits
in white
like I am trying to convince myself
I’m still —
I am trying
to forget the way
that a body can be used
for other’s pleasure;
that love should be
an equal measure of
give and
take, I should not
have let myself
away like that.
Like not eating meals when I’m supposed to
like getting sick
and missing shifts
and that thinking that
“I’m the one who deserves better”
than This?
Tell me
when you find it.
Because every time I remember
the way you yelled, I’m not
blinded by tears. I don’t
cry over someone whose
last words to me
were meant to reach an end game
I could never win.

This love has left me feeling
alone and
like dirt that can’t be scrubbed
away. I never want
to be touched again.
I buy white dresses and try to convince
my body its not a sin;
I try to be happy for June brides.
I try not to be jealous
of their certainty
when they commit.


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