the question forced itself into my mind, without my permission:

do i want to be loved or lovable?

what kind of question is that?

of COURSE i want to be loved.

of course i want to be LOVED.

of course i WANT to be loved.

• with your hand in mine as we walk through a field at sunset
• with a single rose kept safe in a vase we bought together
• with a swing on our porch that’s too worn to use anymore
• with a handwritten letter tucked in a box under my bed
• with a lipstick mark on my cheek
• with you drying the tears that start to spill late at night
• no, listen
• it’s not your fault
• i promise
• you weren’t the one to break me
• i just have nowhere to put the love that’s tangled inside of me
• the roots within me don’t dig quite as deep as they do in others
• i worry you’ll want to do something more than kiss
• it’s not your fault that i’ll say yes
• i worry i’m robbing you of something if we don’t
• it’s not my fault for feeling this way
• i worry i’m not built for love like others are
• WHY WOULD YOU ASK AFTER I SAID NO
• you persuaded, pressured, pushed
• GAVE ME NIGHTS I’D DO ANYTHING TO UNLIVE

---

sticks and stones may break my bones,
but your words rob me of rest

as i sit outside on this summer night
it’s normal for my only company to be the stars and the breeze
but tonight the clouds say something sinister
it doesn’t scare me
mother nature could never whisper words as vile as the boys and girls who want to love me

sticks and stones may break my bones,
but those years of pining took their toll

as i sit outside on this summer night
some lights in the sky are certainly dark by now
maybe the same is true of the ache i feel inside
wanting to be loved was a fool’s wish
but its fire appears to burn bright from here

sticks and stones may break my bones,
but my body feels like a prize

as i sit outside on this summer night
the world is so much quieter here than in my phone
this isn’t the way i wanted to understand what it was like
nothing makes me feel more like a woman than being degraded

i can never go outside again
i’m too afraid to say no
and even more afraid of what happens every time i say yes
google told me this fear is called “being asexual”
i have nothing else to believe for now

sticks and stones may break my bones
but i’d rather fracture my skull than fall in love again
i suppose the love inside of me will have nowhere to go
the love inside of me is different, somehow
i’d rather die than be loved in your bed, against your wall, on your desk

---

but i still want to be lovable.
-like a star in the sky that you smile at
-like the geology section of a museum
-like that self-portrait project in kindergarten
-encase me in amber and bury me deep underground
-paint me as a landscape and hang me above the mantle
-turn my ashes into a diamond and wear me around your neck forever

i want to be loved to the point of preservation.
i hope you yearn for me to the point of caution.
i wish i was lovable to the point of healing.

i want you to love me without hurting me.
i hope you love me without hating me.
i wish i could love you without feeling guilty.

---

i don’t think i want to be loved, not like they tell us to.

but i still want you to stay, even if i’m not what you need. maybe you’ll prove i’m lovable.