To Know Me Is to Love Me But You Don’t Know Me

I am not your fucking Martyr for girls who make it out the hood. Am Not-Look how far she made it./ That shit you see on Facebook is Cliff Notes.

Do not fall in love with the me of Instagram Pics and Twitter Quotes. You could not possibly know me from hugs given at Open Mics.

It is not flattering to hear you spout my praises from your throat with someone else’s words.

I am not soft. Not Easy. I am Rose’s thorns and slip knots.

You have no clue of the nights I cried because I did not know where I was in the city I have lived in for twelve years. Have not bore witness to viscous rants or the time I broke the window out my ex-girlfriend’s car.

Sure I have grown. Have no desire to hurt those who hurt me but all that stuff is a part of me. Like penny candies and loosies. Salt water taffy and blue crabs.

You think you’re attracted to the fire and ice that flows throw my veins but you shouldn’t get too close. Everyone granted a close up has failed to stay the course. Do not think you are any different.

Do not attempt to appease me with your pleas of love. To know me is to love me which is something that you don’t.

It is not something that I am even requesting of you. Not expected. Not admired. Not even frowned upon.

I have no interest in being loved for my wittiness nor my prettiness. Could care less if you like the way I laugh. You are falling in love with things that can not be guaranteed making your love undependable and the last thing that I need is false promises.

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