How I see myself/How people probably see me/How I want to be seen

Or, Why I will always be insecure:

Figure 1: Ugly Chin, Sad Fat, Bulbous Legs. This is how I see myself. Not attractive. I know.
Figure 2: Nice Bosom, Average Belly, Small Legs. This is how I know most people see me in general. This is a healthy thought, I know people see this. I am okay with this.
Figure 3: How I want to be seen, not how I want to actually look.

The Falling Out

“What is hardest to accept about the passage of time is that the people who once mattered the most to us are wrapped up in parentheses.”

John Ivring

Learned to accept loss by losing,
lost nouns by way of verbs.
Forgot the sounds that tongues in mouths
made, hidden up against my cheek.
Avoiding the clicks of words that
would lead to let down.
Forgot about the monuments –
the movement that signaled the
monumental loss. Four months
is a long time to not be in love.
Took four months for me to decide
when to give it up.
Four months of crying was all
it would take for you to decide
that you were still in love.
You are not allowed to just choose,
you can’t fall out of love,
expect love to still be there
when you pick yourself back up.
(It has been longer now –
and now all I can remember
of you is those four months
wrapped up and pushed aside.)
The inevitable end that happens
between ultimatums.
Couldn’t expect you to make up
your mind, couldn’t expect me
to change mine.

Egg Bread

This is a poem for another assignment "Thinking and Feeling with more weight on the thinking"...I used a past relationship for inspiration in making it more cerebral.


My roommate talks in ratios
Bread to Egg, Egg to Bread
"It is not bread if the egg engulfs it,"
But the bread cannot engulf the egg.
She says that when there is an egg on bread,
the bread can never be bread again,
it becomes the egg.
When I was once a piece of bread,
laying under you, the egg -
I knew with all of my inner soft self
that my hard burnt crust could not keep you from
trying to make you become me.
And as you looked down on me, selfish lovely egg,
you broke open, and I had to be subject to it all.
This is not the perfect ratio, it is yellow not golden.
There was no codependency in our relationship.
I idolized you, still admire you.
But needed you to think of me as a need.
You didn't need me to be by yourself,
I did not need you to remain.