She.

Every time I thanked you for your compliments I meant,

I hate the way you feed the “she” in me.

 

Her mere existence tortures me because she believes appearance is everything.

 

She taught me to put myself on the market and beg to be purchased before my expiration date comes.

Many nights my guardian angel watched my mascara run.

I began to wonder “Is it even possible for me to be a man’s chosen one?”

 

She has been there the whole time beneath my skin.

She has been in my thoughts since the sandbox,

She shortened my breaths so my stomach would not e-e-expand too much,

She hated the way my thighs touched, and yet she would never leave me.

All she wanted was for me to be every man’s “pretty.”

 

But I was a beauty turning into a Beast.

 

I’m full of compromises and broken promises.

I’ve been beating myself up from the inside out. Vanity in my veins.

 

My faith had been shaken by bad cholesterol perceptions that caused me to have a spiritual heart-attack.

 

None of my prayer recitations could resuscitate my frozen heart.

But a wise snowman once told me that an act true love could thaw a frozen heart.—–

So I introduced myself to every available man with a kiss, hoping that he would be the one.

 

I was Judas. —-

 

Although I did not kiss the face of the Lord, I betrayed him with one.

 

I had forgotten who I belonged to. ——-
It was a test of the flesh and I was too busy trying to cover up my imperfections.

Idealistic, highly imaginative, intuitive, and spiritual.