Shortcomings

Your message to her said
something like, but not exactly:
“There is too much of her and not enough of me for it to be good.”
As disgusting as it is to know you told your ex about us in bed,
it hurts more that you were right.

I would never talk about your penis in a poem.

I am too much —
too much beauty and ambition,
my thoughts collide with visions of grandeur
for a life you fall short of
every
single
time.

I have thunder thighs, I’m over-sized,
stretch marks line my hips and sides,
mapping all the ways I’ve failed to shrink
my body and my mind.

My curls have formed in mountains,
my voice could cause an avalanche
and my stories,
they go on and on and on and

I am unsparing with second chances,
my heart geared towards the torture
of loving those who are not enough
to balance out my “too much.”

I indulge in my illusions,
though they’re often inconclusive
they consistently kiss the brim of my cup,
overflowing, unrelenting,
carrying me higher and higher and higher but

You
live inside the confines of a sick mind.
Despite how small you are,
you just cannot get out of your own way.