she was not fragile like a snowflake.
she was fragile like a bomb.
and i didn't know which was scarier-
                                                        ­  her explosion or her calm.

while the thunder cracks,
and you blow up my phone,
text after text,
you're scared,
you want this to be over,
you wish for silence,
you don't speak a word to me,
the person right next to you.

"you can just say everything your typing"
i don't want to be a bother
"you won't"
...
maybe so
i won't risk it though

text after text
the thunder stops after 20 minutes
your shaking hands cease their fire
on the burning phone
between them

"you alright?"
yeah

you reach for my arm,
then pull back,
then reach again,
hesitate,
hesitate,
hesitate.

you grab my arm,
you don't say anything else,
you're asleep

i want to say 3 simple words
but i wouldn't want to be a bother

I am a child,
wrapped in cheap paper.
I'm tearing
at every edge.
I tape myself back together,
but I rip in a different place,
and I stare at it.
I feel my body scream in pain as I grin at a
stranger.
The wound is festering,
it's puce with grime.
It's growing and expanding forth from torn scars
that I've tried to heal with butterfly bandages.
But, every time the butterflies bite my skin,
after using their wings to keep
my laceration
from ripping further,
I use the bird that is my fingernail to pick at the scab,
and watch as the butterfly tumbles to the ground,
joining a thousand carcasses laid strewn next to me.

They're shrivelled and crisp,
scattered in disarray.

I hear them apologise,
for not staying so long.

And I'll take on the world.
This is me,
Whole again.
Taking every new step,
Conquering it without you.
This is me,
Holding hands with someone
Who wants to keep me,
Cherish me for who I am.
This is me,
Forgiving you for the hurts I've felt.
This is me,
Thanking you for letting me go,
Discovering a life I'd never imagined.
I am blessed that you let me go.
Truly blessed, to had you in my life.