I'm not eye catching
I do not turn heads
I'm no more special than the next
For somebody else is always better
Prettier, smarter, stronger, wiser
That I would be moronic to believe
Anybody would stop to stare at me
I'm exceptionally ordinary
But then again
There is probably somebody
Who is better at that too

Write me a poem that makes my cheeks burn
So that my only concern is how the world knows
all the ways you can tell me you hate me

Read me the lines of venom you spit when you speak
Because who cares about the tears that stain my skin?
My cheeks are a masterpiece of old emotion

But who cares?
When the words you write make people feel alive
They don't have time to ponder over my sarrow

I want to try and understand how you think
Why my voice grates your ears
Why my face conjures red infront of your eyes
Until you **** me with each cruel word
Your sharp edged pen now rested
My blood dripping from the tip

Write me a poem that makes me cry
All your cruelty wrapped into a small package
Written on old napkins or preformed on stage
Either way the audience claps
Or a waitress cleaning her tables at night will cry in awe

And my cheeks will burn red

I would've died for you
but don't think about it too much

don't imagine a knife in my hands
slicing away all of the parts of myself
that you decided weren't good enough for you
the parts you forgot to love

don't think about my blood
running onto your floor as you stand there
watching it and wondering
how you're going to clean it up
I'm dying on the inside
because you've stolen from me
the kind of love that is never supposed to leave

I didn't love you the way novels are written
we didn't hold hands and watch the stars
we watched the sunrise in smiles
we made memories at midnight
I never loved you with kisses or cuddling
but I loved you

so much so that I didn't need to breath
if the air in your lungs was slipping away
I would have cut myself open
and offered you my own
and I was hoping you would do the same
but I know better now

do not strain yourself on matters of my death
if i died from exposure you'd have my jacket
if I had a bullet in my heart I jumped in front of you
I would have

because the past no longer will influence my future
I will not die for you anymore
for you laughed at my love
and tossed it aside

so when you lay dying from the vacancy in your chest
because when I ran I left without a word
don't think too much about it