i tell myself
you were never worth it
but that is my head
and what my heart tells me
is the truth.
one time, you were.
you were always, always
worth my time, my words.
and still, i'm thinking, remembering
and i realize i still want to
to spend my time, my words
on you and only you
like old times
even thinking that
it's a waste to even bother

all because that one time
it was perfect.
it was beautiful.
it was infinite.
we were perfect.
we were beautiful.
we were infinite.

but past tense
gives away all
of my story

it used to be the biggest number, infinity
until one day there came a moment
when time stood still and the world stopped
and that was when I met you.

there is not a biggest number
to explain how much I am in love.
It is simply a fact that I couldn't survive
a life without you present.

I remember roaming, silently observing.
It was dim, it was damp, it was beautiful.
People stared, I remember. Oh, the whispers...

"Why is she so quiet?"
"I heard it's because her brother died."
"No, no. That was just a rumor Emory started
to get back at her for stealing her boyfriend."
"Her best friend is Nicole Dodd."
"Isn't she that emo goth chic?"

"I heard she's bi."
"Same here, and it definitely shows. Ew!"

Do they not realize
that their whispers
are more
like yells
inside
an echoing building

Do they not realize
that their faces
are always
judged
exactly the same way?

Do they even realize
that every day
they look at someone
and they only see
the ratty, dark cover
and not the millions of stories
inside?

All they have to do
is open it
and read
and get past the prologue
or even the first sentence

And then they'll know.
they'll know why this cover
is so tattered and beaten and torn
it's because of them
it's always been because of them,
**for not looking past my cover.