sometimes i think
that if
i close my eyes
hard enough, i might
see your face again.

and i always try so hard,
that constellations appear
and they blur
my eyesight for minutes.

i still miss you,
you know.

maybe i’m didn't blink hard enough
for you
to appear right in front of me.
or maybe, i just wasn't enough
for you to never
leave

if we ever get drunk again
I'll remember that day our lips met
and that day when
you stole my breath away

but if we ever spent the next day
you wanting us to be 'just friends'
I will grab you by your shoulders
and shake the world out of you
and kiss you so hard
that my lipstick stained your lips permanently

this way
it'll be my turn to steal your heart away
and i will make you doubt
of why you ever thought
that you are better off alone

because every night before you crawl into your bed
feeling empty and dead
you pull out this metal box
only to let numbers define you

but what you didn't know is that
your weight— or what others perceive you to be— what others called you— doesn't define you. it never did

because what you didn't know, is that
those that hurt you
don't love themselves in the middle of the night, too,
and they use you, to cope— to heal

but what they didn't know is that
the methods they use on others
won't unbreak them, too