once upon a dream

in another life, i knew love.

i basked in the glow of being adored by another human being,

only because i was filling the void my own self-hatred punctured in my heart.

that adoration was almost the perfect size to make me forget all the bad in the world,

but that small gap welcomed the evils into my being.

now, after that love has gone and stayed away,

i have vowed to myself to never again let someone so close to my heart,

this sacred promise seeks only to protect me.

but, in doing so, it isolates me from anything good or happy.

in the name of self-preservation, i have actually hurt myself more.

similar to the metamorphosis of a butterfly, I have changed.

once, a hopeless romantic with an utmost belief in soulmates,

someone who used the words “make love,”

someone who liked roses,

to the bitter woman who allocates only her bedtimes to a man’s presence,

someone who daydreams during sex, 

someone who hates roses.