ugly emotions

There are ugly emotions sitting in my chest
and tugging at my heartstrings.
Each heartbeat flutters, born of anxiety,
and a measure of self-loathing;
my blood runs warm beneath my skin
but I feel cold
and there are ugly emotions sitting in my chest.

I can’t even smile without covering my mouth
or bowing my head as if apologizing
for two chipped front teeth and
the unhinged doubts riding
my cheeks like flushed heat. I feel hideous
and I know that’s a strong word,  but
I can’t even smile without covering my mouth.

I shaved my arms because I felt ugly,
all the hair felt coarse, and burly,
manly in the wrong way to be manly:
virile, and wrong, and I felt like a beast
untamed and without pedigree,  I cover my
mouth and my hands feel round and shapeless;
I shaved my arms because I felt ugly.

I thought you might look at me again
and give me a second thought,
assuming I ever warranted a first:
maybe if I changed a few things,
like my haircut, my arms, my smile,
things would change.
I thought you might look at me again.

I shouldn’t be jealous of him.
You’re not mine anymore that you are
anyone’s, you are free, and gorgeous
and he is handsome, muscular
and seems all too graceful in
torn black jeans and a white, rolled up shirt.
I shouldn’t be jealous of him.

Ugly emotions sit in my chest,
can’t  even smile without covering my mouth.
Shaved my arms because I felt ugly,
thought you might look at me again.
I shouldn’t be jealous of him.