Taylor Petite

Your alone time is so crucial to your sanity.

My heart broke on a December day in a Starbucks. Yuck, how cliché is that?

It’s quite masochistic to numb yourself to feeling in order to be the one who has more control.

Your hailstorm left me bruised and beaten. A whirlwind of painful welts, my once porcelain skin was now stained black and blue.

You give life meaning.

You’d love me, and I’d love you just the same. Our love wouldn’t always be sunshine and kisses in bed, it would be messy, trying at times—but it would be imperfectly perfect.

I look around at all the happy couples in my life and sigh. What do they have that I lack? Am I just not good enough? Not pretty enough?

All said and done
Sitting in the insatiable silence
Awaiting the feeling in my legs to return
I taste the bitter ambiance