Shelf

Tegan Barbara

28 May 2025 — 1 min read

Self-sabotaging again,

what’s wrong with me?

I know this trajectory; I know it well.

Another predictable ending, another scar to add to the collection.

You're ruining me and you don’t care a bit.

Still, I willingly step into the fray, embodying an unhealed masochist.

I’m not as strong as I pretend to be.

Once my shell splinters, I’ll drip mess all over you.

Don’t crack me, when we both know you’ll begin to despise me when I fail to live up to your projected fantasy.

Just put me back on the shelf.

I don't want another lesson or to lose another song to grief.

- Please, I asked nicely

Cheers

You wanted me to satiate you, whilst you drip fed me a diet of anxiety. You insisted I pour sunshine into you, as you draped every window in my house in black cloth. You asked me to thaw your frosted heart, then suffocated the flames of every lit match. You

Whoops, my bad.

You sent me a text last night. You wrote: “You were different, intriguing even and unlike anyone I’ve ever met before”. In saccharine detail you said, “Life without you is a palette of grey. Where did I go wrong?” Forgive me for being cutthroat, it’s just that the

To all the men I regret letting inside me

Men* say women are too fussy, too nit-picky. They say women have unrealistic expectations and impossibly high standards. But, I’ve never met a man who genuinely enjoys it when I take up more space than him, spread my legs a little wider at the table. A man who’s

You asked me to wear the lemon dress

The day I met you is imprinted in my mind. I remember every detail: the Verve playing in my headphones, the grey hued sky, the all-consuming conversations and the scent of coffee intermingling with rain-soaked tar. You were smart. You were soft. You were emotionally attuned. I wanted you, desperately.

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Cheers

Whoops, my bad.

To all the men I regret letting inside me

You asked me to wear the lemon dress