Gina Temper

Beauty is Pain

Beauty is pain; that’s what I tell myself. When I wake up. When I go to bed, latched to my squish-mellow. The cozy one. The one that I pretend is my husband’s chest. My husband, the sweet, beautiful man that I see in my dreams. The one who doesn’t seem to exist. I can say that now, at 23 I’m still alone. I waited for him to come. I worked too hard, and then too little.