God likes ugly

On days like this I retrace his journey through my fingerprints as a reminder that I did have a friend once.

And with those same obedient hands I cup my ear to the sound beneath my breast and listen for the cumbersome screaming I’m so sure makes everyone run away in terror.

And unfamiliarity.

A better case would be the girl whose microscopic heart sang out a song of eternal lonely every time someone asked for the weather.

The girl who craves pad Thai first thing in the morning because she’s starved herself in protest of pseudo love.

I sleep with the window open and still use a blanket the same way I cry out for someone to like me and then delete it.

-erica jeudy ©

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