Lust or love? I think to myself.

A repetitive cycle that I’m trying to break. 

Never have I seen two things,

consistently mistaken for one another.

I’ve been told I’m loved, just to fuck.

I’ve been told I’m wanted, just to be turned away.

It’s not my heart that’s the object of your affection.

It’s my body.

Lust or love? I’m asking you this.

You can be honest with me, I will not shy away.

I think I deserve to know,

but I’m afraid you will tell me another lie.

I’ve been told I’m hot, just to fuck.

I’ve been told I’m needed, just to be turned away.

Either way you manipulate the words, it’s saddening.

Now, I’m broken.

Lust or love? Still, one in the same.

Your words have become as meaningless as my self worth.

A pity; not surprising.

You took my body, and still left my heart behind.

I’ve been told I’m more than enough.

I’ve been told I’m damaged, not worthy of pursuit. 

The line has now been blurred, between these two different words.

Because of you.