Boys ain’t shit

By Anna Lopez ’19

He tells me I’m pretty. As if I don’t know the sunset got its beauty from me.

He tells me I’m funny. As if I don’t laugh at my own jokes long after they are over.

He tells me I look beautiful today. As if I didn’t purposely dress to impress myself.

He tells me he loves me. As if I don’t love the way my mouth opens when I laugh or how I twirl my rings when I’m nervous.

He tells me he doesn’t love me anymore. As if he expects me to hate my sarcasm and the way I can’t form sentences when I’m sad.

He tells me no one will ever love me. As if I don’t know my friends are waiting to catch me when I fall and my parents provided me with all they could.

He tells me these things. As if I didn’t love me long before I loved him. As if I don’t love me while loving him. As if I won’t love me long after I stop loving him.

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