I Like Her Better
a poem by Hannah Chen
i shut my eyes, singing
la la la in my head, humming & humming & humming
along to a melody––no, a symphony rather––to lull
me off to sleep, but the gods refuse to
shut my mind & to slow my breathing.
instants pass when i feel as if i almost made it to
when i came close to not touching that thing,
but old habits never seem to die. thoughts that i wish
were only foreign flickers of a distant memory were
in fact my instincts. so i pick up my phone, blinding my eyes
––i swear the sun lives in here sometimes––
and i begin to scroll, scroll, scroll,
searching for the same girl, each photo is
a sight for sore eyes,
a star for big lies,
an addiction to me.
i like her better
filters sunny, tinted with a beautiful felony,
she managed to perfect what
seems to be the perfect post. it’s just a simple
smile, one that seems to be difficult for me, since she
got all the “good genes.” not a speckle of flaws, only a string of
hate towards me. ha, i wish to respond. ha, ha, ha, ha.
it’s not funny at all.
what i thought was a second might’ve been, perhaps, a couple
of sad and mindless hours, filled
with a drug that i can’t seem to leech off of.
put it down, put it down i tell myself. as the girl’s dimples
model for the camera, i cry myself to sleep, the only times
i can fall asleep, desperately, redundantly search for
the sweet, savory flavor i’ve been
looking for. where is it? where is it?
tears dripping down my supple cheeks,
rationed of beauty, i cry.
if only i could love myself as much
as i envy her.
Cover Photo Source: The Bite