Poem about Healing

the process of healing does not end when the wounds are no longer visible; it ends when the wounds no longer ache.

I place my value

in how others perceive me, 

and I know I shouldn’t.  

Those people have no understanding 

of what I have survived. 

They cannot grasp that 

faking a smile 

takes more energy out of me 

than does a tear, 

and they cannot see 

what I can see, 

and they don’t know me 

like I know me, 

but I still hold onto their words 

with every tip of my fingers. 

I feel like I am broken, 

didn’t spend enough time 

growing in my mother’s womb 

because if I had, 

maybe I would have come to understand 

that I am my greatest lover, 

and no one else.

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