Versions of me

I miss more versions of myself than I will ever miss of the men or people I have loved

I used to be proud to be me

I used to dance to my own music

Listen to my own song

Wear what the fuck I felt beautiful in even if it meant I would end up being chastised about it

When did I give away so much of me that I started thinking what was left wasn’t worth me loving?

Just because I was bad at love didn’t mean I wasn’t worthy of it

They were just bad choices

I was caught up in a moment 

Somewhere I started to believe their version of me

I stopped believing I was a goddess 

I lost faith in me

I listened too long to what they said 

I was never too much

Thats all that they were

Moments 

I am not the sum of their picture of me

I didn’t need a filter

I didn’t need to tone it down

I am me

Beautiful and brilliant and funny as fuck

Fuck them

I love me