i do not want you
to lower your head
and flutter your eyelashes across my scars.
i do not want you to brush your lips over them
while whispering "pretty, pretty, pretty"
like you are a mouthpiece for the world--
like the world did this to me.
i do not want you to cover them in compliments
so that you don't have to look straight at them.
there are monsters inside of me.
i do not want you to love them.