I am desperate to be wanted,  not lusted over in the way that people trace their lips across every bare inch that meets the eye,  but instead, to be loved and cherished.  when will it be my turn to have songs  or poems written about the simple beauty of my existence,  the way the sunlight looks through the strands of hair that fall in front of my face  or how I constantly lean my head into my brightest smiles? I brush fingers with a dream so close to reality,  but it slips away without fail every time,  and the people I trust with my heart eat me alive,  only to leave the leftovers to rot into the open air.

https://www.dailycal.org/2022/09/10/a-confession-of-near-defeat-a-poem/

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