even on my good days, i am not good.

i am stitched together with codependency

and always begging men not to leave,

i think i like to be unloved. 

maybe it just cements some type of need

my daddy could never fix growing up. 

but when i got my boobs in 9th grade

i never tried to be a person again. 

so here i am, a faceless woman that bleeds anxiety 

and cries for guys that will never see

I am more than just my late blooming body. 

but then i lay in restless peace

knowing i will never be more than what they made me.

i am merely the faceless woman of their dreams.