This World Needs More of Me. {poetry}
He told me I was bigger
than the girls he was used to.
The words rolled off his tongue,
like a compliment wrapped
in a bomb threat.
He ran his hands along my hips
like he owned them.
Like he adopted a highway
and my dress was a piece of trash
he patrolled the roads to remove.
He kissed me with lips
that whispered I owed him.
Like he was doing me a favor,
by pressing his lips into mine.
Like maybe I should send him
a Thank You card afterwards.
(He was the worst kisser I’ve ever known.)
But I didn’t leave.
I was eternally indebted to him
for breaking his skinny-girl standard
and taking a chance on hips and ass
and thighs with no gap.
He pressed himself into me and I wiggled away,
until the night became a balancing routine
just to stay on the bed.
He said he was a mover in his sleep,
but he meant to say he liked it best
when I took up less space.
He looked at me with eyes
that were sorry,
like he wished he could save me.
He had a way of looking down on me
even when we were
eye to eye.
I hated the way he would pat my back,
like he was trying to compact me
into a smaller form.
I hated the way my eyes sunk in
when I was around him,
almost as though they saw
whatever it was he saw,
and they couldn’t get far enough away.
I hated the way mirrors and walls
and my reflection in the window
screamed at the top of their lungs
whenever I walked past them.
I used to think it was all in my head
until one day,
I swear strangers started hearing it too,
Like the way he saw me molded me into a new form.
A lifeless, empty shell
of what used to be a walking affirmation.
Like the lipstick words smeared themselves
across my mirror and turned into
the only repeating phrase
that seemed to be a constant.
“You’re taking up too much space.”
Unlike the sad song
I hear so many girls listening to
as they lull themselves to sleep,
I didn’t feel like I wasn’t enough.
I felt like I was too much.
Too much body for one soul to inhabit.
Too much skin and too many bones.
I didn’t know it was possible to feel so small
and so big all at the same time.
Until one day I caught a glimpse
of my eyes in the mirror.
I suppose I’d only be able
to avoid them for so long.
I looked past my eyes,
and my kohl black liner.
Passed the ice cold tears
that seemed to squeeze out
with every passing breath.
I looked so far inside my mind
that I swear the whole world around me
turned black.
And then…
Light. So much light.
I would have had to shield my eyes,
if I weren’t staring into my own.
It hurt but I didn’t want it to stop.
Sometimes hurting is better than nothing.
I stared so long that I thought
I might have gone blind.
Until my eyes came into focus,
and I saw a pitch-black room,
and a neon girl filled
with midnight streetlights,
and full moon howling,
and flame-filled fire
burning from the inside out.
I saw star-filled eyes
doing their best to navigate
the empty night,
and I saw a body
trying to contain so many things,
that it couldn’t ever be big enough.
I realized that he was wrong, but so was I.
I realized that this world
doesn’t need
tiny dancers and silenced smiles.
It doesn’t need quiet minds
and settled thoughts.
I realized that there isn’t
any part of me,
inside or out,
that this world doesn’t need.
In that moment I realized
that I’m enough as I am,
but there’s no truth in striving to be less.
I realized, in that moment,
that this world needs more of me.
***
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