I am broken, but patched. Yet wounds still leak everywhere. Pieces forever missing.

Like a scarecrow picked for its stuffing, so have I. Give and give and give some more. Here’s a pinch they say to my handful. I just smile and nod thankfully.

I want to be possessed. I want to be longed for. I want someone to be completely enamored by me. Just once to feel what it’s like to be desired for my entirety.

Yet I am a single rose weathering a storm alone. Beautiful and in bloom. Tempting and dangerous. For my thorns are plenty. Protecting myself from those who would pick me for my beauty, let me wilt, and throw me away.

The urge to give up is strong at times. Doing it all myself gets tiring. The loneliness is dreadfully silent. I cry more than I smile. I scream, but being alone doesn’t nearly hurt as much.