Kiss one:
And I’m left thinking,
“Have I found him?”
The one
Who can love this mess that I've become?
Have I found the one
Who can repair
This broken vase
I call
myself?
                                          No, it can’t be.
                                          He’s only drunk.
                                          There is no way.
                                          Not me.
                                          No.
                                          No.
Kiss two:
And I’m left thinking
"Was I wrong.
Was it not
Just the alcohol.
Have I found him.”
                                           Yes.
                                           I have.
                                           He can love me.
                                           He can.
                                           He is the kind of man
                                           That can care for something
                                           So broken.
Cold December night:
I discovered
He was no man at all.
He was a boy
Who made a broken girl fall.
                                          Fall.
          ­                                  Fall.
                                              Fall.
Until she hit the bottom.
And then buried her.
And her hope.
And her love.
6 feet under the ground.
Because he was a boy.
Who found it easier
To go back to what he knew
Than to try at something new.
So he buried
That broken girl.
6 feet under.
That cold,
Hard ground.