Don’t tell me to starve myself

And tell me you love me in the same sentence.

Don't tell me you love me

By pressing bruises into my skin,

holding me down,

Asking me if I like it.

Don’t thank yourself afterwards

Telling me “you’re welcome,”

When I didn’t ask for your crime

Or your hands on my skin.

Love cannot be felt

Through hating my body.

 

Love is felt

When I See His Eyes

As he kisses me awake at 6 am

And asks me what I want for breakfast.

Love is felt

When he kisses my bruises

And holds me down to tickle me.

Love is felt

When he holds me crying

From the nightmares you gave me

And tells me that I am still beautiful.

Love is felt

When he holds my hand

And thanks me for loving him

As much as he loves me.