But darling, it's not about me. It's about every day dream you've ever had in which you kissed the curves of her spine, and her fingertips, her nose. You loved her before you loved me. So when you seem worried about my heart breaking, understand that I only want what makes you happy. I can pick up my pieces and hide them from you. Just please, be happy.

Honey, I am not a book you can pick up and read at your convenience. I am not like a bookmark in the way that I will not keep you where you wanna be. I am not in control of anything you do, but when faced with the choice of me or her, I know you will choose her. She is your adventure story, and I am part of your past. Please be careful on your trips. I will always be in your hindsight cheering you on.

I am the kind of broken you cant fix with super glue. I am not held together with a hot glue gun. I am just unsaveable. Unable to be salvaged, you must toss me away in the trash. I am like a old lamp you hit when secretly playing ball in the house. You never told your mom about me despite how often I was there or missing. You took a broom and dust pan and swept the big pieces into the trash, but as you found the little pieces, you kept them. You kept the small broken bits if me hoping they would aid you in the healing you were doing but honey, all it did was break me down more. You were the erosion that ruined me. The stream that carved out so much of my center I collapsed in on myself. I became a sink hole within myself. It wasn't by choice. I wanted to stand strong. I wanted to prove that I was what you wanted, that I could shelter you. I wanted you. I wanted you whether it was under me on a Saturday night or next to me in the lords house on a Sunday morning, I wanted you. All of you. But you only wanted little pieces of me. And that's okay. I'll just be here with my chips and bruises, smiling at you in your entirety.

you watched me break
you let her break me
you watched me break
you watched her break me
you watched me break
you watched her torture me
you let her wrap her hand in yours
you let her look right as me as she did all of this
you let her say spit venomous words at me
you let her break me
and all you did was watch

It wasn't that the joke was funny, it was the fact that my heart was so broken. I never wanted anyone to feel how I feel how I did. So I laughed a whole hearted fake laugh, and everyone believed it. At that moment I realized I was not born to be a musician, I was a natural born actor with the ability to act okay at all times despite the ease that came with being my broken self. This facade was my life, and I had to keep dragging it along.

If you could see my mind, you would believe it to be from a horror movie.
Bloodstains mark the walls from the deaths of all the previous dreams and ideas i've had.
No sunlight is shining through the blinds because the windows are boarded up.
It's not by choice.
If you want to know why my mind is this way, talk to my brain or my heart.
They know the real reasons.

When I walked up and asked how she got her scars, she explained "I tried to cut myself to fit other peoples puzzles....heads up kid, It never worked." and turned away to keep puffing on a cigarette. Its been 3 years since I heard this and I still question what would **** me faster. Inhaling her second hand smoke that day, or her voice on repeat every time I add new cuts to my skin.