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.
We Got This 