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I Like Her Better

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

the end,

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

than myself.

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

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