Words by Maddy Bloxham
The question I ask myself weekly,
I look at you, up at your mesmerising face
which I lose myself in
I look again because I can’t pull my gaze away.
one more look
and I’m still conscious and confused.
Why do you choose to look at me?
There’s no part of me
let alone my face,
for you to fixate on,
for you to become hooked,
for you to become lost.
But you tell me,
softly and sweetly,
that there something about me.
I’m special in my own way.
My friends tell me, reassuringly,
that its my personality. It has to be my personality.
Strangers in the street tell each other when they see,
that I must be plain lucky.
Emphasis on the plain.
These voices of interest never stop
and neither do the voices in my head.
The ones that ask why,
The imbalance is apparent,
and impossible for me to smile
in my own special way and ignore.
no matter how you look at me,
you laugh with me
and touch me,
I’ll always need to know,
Because it’s not normal for someone like you
to love someone like me
it’s not natural
it’s not right.
It won’t last.
It can’t last
You may love me,
But my Inability to love myself will be what breaks us up.
You can tell me I’m pretty, and you can tell me I’m yours
but the imbalance between us is so heavy that it’s throwing me off centre
and further away from you.
And that’s what happened
I idolised you and hated myself.
My insecurities and disgust for myself overtook it all.
as should have happened
you met someone as beautiful as you
and no one asked why
instead they asked why you weren’t moving in together yet.
It seemed so right
and reaffirmed that I seemed so wrong
why was I so wrong ?