You say many things.
You say that I am beautiful,
and that I am fat.
Not as fat now,
although the stretch marks on my hips
speak to the days of my youth
when the mysterious god of puberty
deemed me worthy
to drink his nectar.

So many things come out of your mouth.
One day I asked why you were so mean
and you said I'd understand when I was older.
I'm older now and I still don't understand.

I wonder about you,
I wonder about your thoughts
and my dreams.
I wonder if they'll ever reconcile,
stranger faces in stranger's places.
Your hand never in mine,
I guess it should have been my hand in yours.

I never knew that pleasure.
It doesn't matter now.

Once you hugged me with one arm
and I knew that you could love me.
I'm too far away from that now.
From a distance, everything looks beautiful.
You'll always be terrifyingly beautiful.
Terrifying me, beautifully.
I'm sorry.