Lacy undies on the cold tile floor,
The delicate pink softly laying against the harsh reality.
I do this every morning, you know
I look at that lacy underwear and I wonder.
I wonder if I will ever feel okay with my body,
If I will ever become as delicate as the lace touching my skin.
I wonder if boys will ever treat me like my lace panties:
Expensive, intricate, simply beautiful.
Or will they treat me like another piece of dirty laundry?
I wonder if when he touched my body, my soul, my entire being if he knew lace could tear so easily,
Because he left me with nothing but holes,
Nothing but emptiness.
You see, I wonder if I will ever find true love again,
I wonder if I will ever get to swap the lace for cotton,
And the lust for connection.
I look at the lacy undies on my bathroom floor,
And I throw them away
Because lace gets worn out over time.