Never Enough

she's scared. scared of letting people into her heart because she's thrown

it under too many buses and doesn't know what’s left. left in the dust 

with injuries so substantial her psyche may be tainted forever. forever ugly—

not good enough, not smart enough, not interesting enough, not pretty enough,

not thin enough. enough to be someone's doormat, cum rag, take-the-fall, 

throw-away bitch. bitch that bothers, bitch that asks for too much, 

bitch that bitches too much. much wear and tear, she's young but run-down. 

down in the debris of failed relationships, friends and lovers united. 

united in creating the same endings over and over for her, until she wonders 

how she became so delusional to think that the next ending 

would be any different from the ones before: 

the bridge’s burned, they're taking off in a helicopter, 

and she's left in the smoke, wrecked. wrecked with no route to run

away. away from the thickness filling her lungs 'till she chokes, 'till the chills rip 

through her calloused skin and creep into her mind. mind your weight, 

mind your words, mind your business, mind your looks, mind your nonsense love, 

mind your worthless empathy, her thoughts scream into the void. 

void emotion, it doesn't matter. matter of fact, the next one will take 

all her empathy, kindness, love, and attention, and toss her just like always. always

calling themselves a “true” friend or lover—telling her she's too much, but never enough.

About the Author

Michaela Coll is an English major with a concentration in Creative Writing and a minor in Professional Writing. She enjoys spending time with her family, playing with her dogs and cats, and writing poetry in her free time.