20/20

They told us
that if the boys
were mean to us

it meant they liked us. 

So from a when I was
a small flower not yet bloomed
I equated lust
and love to desire

and meanness. 

The first time 
he called me stupid,
and yelled in my face

I thought it was love. 

The first time 
he told me that I
was worthless

I accepted it as normal. 

When he called 
me fat
I thought it was normal
and I made myself believe 

he meant it in a good way.

When he threw
things and got angry
and scared me,

I thought it was because he cared about me.

When he tore
me down
to bits of nothingness and
ripped my petals off of me

I told myself that he was mean because he loved me.

If they had told me
that boys being mean
to girls
was wrong,
and that true love
lets you bloom to your
full flowery potential

maybe I would have walked away sooner.