Paperweight

You never loved me; you loved the sickness in me.

most of us needed a little something extra to be okay.

But wouldn’t you rather be real and flawed, then some synthetic perfect girl who never really lived?”

All of me stitched together and straining at the seams.

My body is both weapon and wound, predator and prey. I will self-destruct without any help.

‘The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off’

Never call me, never text me, never write me.

You and I—whatever we were—are through

Somehow it’s easier to move. I am heavier and lighter, both.

I’m tired of hurting and being hurt by you.

I don’t know what comes after this, but whatever comes I do it alone.

Without you.