I am "hot"
Never beautiful, never pretty
Never daffodils in a guitar or crystals in a pocket
I am 3am texts that only read "wanna fuck?"
And never "how was your day?"
I am not beautiful in the way that I stutter when I speak
Or that I paint my nails black with chunky nail polish
I am "sexy" in the way my breasts are too big for my liking
And my smile crooks to cover my yellowed teeth
I am never gorgeous enough to ask out, only enough to give excuses on why you can't be with me.
My mouth fills with bile at the thought of hands on my skin, a gaping wound in between my legs
The damage of someone else that you ripped with your nails digging into my back
To you I am an object, a condom, a single text message
That the block button remains unread
