No One Will Want You

Five years ago, I sat before the mirror
freshly blue-haired.
Cheeks flushed pink with satisfaction.
It had been quite a while since I had felt
so beautiful.
And for a moment,
I was.

No one will want you.

The words electric in my spine,
my mother, well-intentioned.
No one will ever hire you.

No one will want you.

Ten years ago, I walked along the freeway
hedging my bets.
Cheeks flushed pink with summer heat.
It had been quite a while since I had filled
my prescriptions.
And for a moment,
I was happy.

No one will want you.

Zombies are better than Molotovs.
My welfare healthcare, well-intentioned.
No one wants your kind of trouble.

No one will want you.

Fifteen years ago, I pressed a little harder.
Tearaway skin.
Cheeks flushed pink with desperation.
It had been quite a while since I had asked
myself such questions.
And for a moment,
I knew my truth.

No one will want you.

You shouldn't be so desperate for attention.
My closest friend, well-intentioned.
Baggage doesn't do you any favors.

No one will want you.

Twenty years ago, I avoided eye contact
staring straight ahead.
Cheeks flushed pink with humiliation.
It had been quite a while since I had dressed
the way they wanted.
And for a moment,
I embraced it.

No one will want you.

You'll have to lose some weight eventually.
My father, well-intentioned.
No one wants to kiss a fat girl.

No one will want you.

Tonight, I lay my head against your shoulder
lazily embrace.
Cheeks flushed pink beneath your lips.
It has been quite a while since I echoed
a single ugly word.
And in these moments,

I forget them.