Some nights, I sip on my coffee

And scribble down words

With my ink-stained hands

Those are the nights

When I do not need the water

To feel like drowning

Because those are the nights

When my thoughts are waves

Crashing to the shore all at once–

Except, I am the shore.

 

I write about a lot of things

I write about the birds in the sky,

The moon, the stars, the unplanned adventures,

The silly conversations, childhood memories

I write about the mistakes I made,

Failure, regrets, loneliness,

Anxiety, depression, how pathetic I feel

But I do not write about love.

 

I will not write about love

Not until I stop trying

 To squeeze myself into my jeans

I will not write about love

Not until I stop comparing myself

To other girls

I will not write about love

Not until I stop trying

To fix myself

I will not write about love

Not until I can look at myself

In the mirror and say,

“Hey, you may be damaged

Or even broken beyond repair

But know that

You are a masterpiece out

Out of broken things.

Despite the cuts, the permanent scars,

Your shattered heart,

You are beautiful.

 

So I stopped writing about love

Because I do not want

To get caught up on the idea

Of being in love

When I have already forgotten

How to love myself.