there was a time when i believed that i was incapable of being loved
so i kept a tally of every one of my flaws on my wrist
i fell asleep wondering why i wasn’t good enough for anyone
and a soggy pillow held me through the night
i, now, see that isn’t the truth.
i, now, keep a collection of his kisses on my neck
and his comforting arms hold me through the night.
darkness swallowed me and spit me back out
and i know now that the tally i kept means nothing
because everybody has their own tally.
whether it be on their body or in their mind,
and that’s what makes them beautiful.