The speaker admits to a "funny way of showing" love, and the joke turns bitter fast. Every example is a small act of self-denial: a mouth that turns down instead of up, a body starved to fit a trend, tears hidden before they can fall. Even anger is held in, since the body isn't allowed its "right to raze."
The poem's real subject is self-neglect. The speaker keeps reaching for other people or shiny new things, and those things lose their glow once they're held. Meanwhile, the only glimpses of themselves come by accident, in the reflection of a parked car window, which is a lonely and telling image.
The tone is quiet, tired and a little pleading. When the speaker asks to be told they're wrong, it sounds like hope more than argument. The last line, a rhetorical question, lands softly but sadly: who could blame someone for believing they never loved themselves enough?