Where Wolves Fear to Prey

I learned to love the worst parts of me because you told me they were beautiful

You called my anxiety empathy. You called my depression compassion.

You told me I wasn’t shattered and broken, but I was just a unique and original design in the stained glass window

The hardest part for me wasn’t accepting these truths.

I took my scars and wore them as badges of honor.

A hodgepodge cacophony of trauma and pride.

No, the hardest part for me

Was continuing to believe these truths after you stopped loving them.

But I guess how I can still say I love you and you can’t even look me in the eyes,

I will have to settle for just loving me on your behalf.

It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it.