Open Mic

He said,
he could tell I was easy
by the way I wrote my love poems.
There was always something about my father not loving me.
And so,
he knew that the sadness in me ,
would find solace in his smile.
He was right.
But its hard to smile,
when the men who I only seem to end up in the company of,
only like breaking things.
Sad girls,
we can be so fragile.
And yet,
God never seems to intervene.
After all,
there has to be someone sending these serial users our way.
You'll never know heartache,
until the one person you want to touch and feel,
decides you're no longer what they want.
... I don't think ill ever know what makes the pretty girls
the type of girls worth marrying.
I have yet to be the girl who is worth more than one night.
Maybe I should stop returning smiles from boys,
who hear my poetry,
who know my father didn't love me.
...Or maybe,
I should simply change the shade of my lipstick.
I guess both are too tragic.