when you say you love me, i don't know how you could mean it. i believe imperfections make you different and being different is beautiful but not my own imperfections. i look at myself in the mirror each morning and all i see is everything i hate. when ever i see your ex's i wonder why you're with me and not someone like them; i'm probably double their size. i'm probably double their cup size, too. they probably didn't fight with you as much as you fight with me. why me? what is it about me that you find so 'incredible?' i may not believe the the same things you believe about me, but for those few seconds that you make me feel beautiful? are a few seconds that i love. you say you're sorry for your insecurities, but you haven't even met mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment