I am thankful for the way
you look at me

The purpose of this poem
Is to let you know that the pools of water
That form in the corners of my eyes
Are not as shallow as you think they are;

And besides,
People have died
From drowning in puddles.

my heart was your punching bag.
and even now, the bruises are still visible
to others, attempting to turn over my hollow remains,
stumbling upon
the wreckage you left behind;
but after each swing,
you would uncurl your fists,
wipe my cheeks roughly,
and insist that my scars
were just marks of you loving me too hard.

but,
i know it’s not your fault;
they blame you for throwing punches
when boxing gloves were forced upon your fingers.

if only i had been there sooner,
to teach you how beautiful hands can be
when they aren’t trying to destroy something.

i am made of flaws,
stitched together by good intentions;
but it’s hard to stay intact, when you constantly rip at my seams.
you pull and tug, until i become unravelled,
and i'm just a piece of string,
that you shove in your pocket.
and, much like string, i'm useless on my own;
i need to tie myself to someone.
but you and i, tied ourselves together too quickly
and, like my hair that you always nagged me to brush,
we became more knotted, more tangled with time.
but as time went on, we insisted that we were fine,
we could just use our fingers;
but it wasn’t until we stood at the mirror,
staring at our own matted destruction,
that we realized:
no comb could possibly be strong enough
to make us beautiful again.

the reason i don't keep in touch
is because it reminds me how much i miss you

it's much easier to live without you
than to have you so fleetingly

i want to write this poem
because i am afraid to tell you that i think you're beautiful

and if you looked closer, maybe you'd see
that i could be exactly what you need,
if you could only let yourself have it

my mind drifts back to you,
more than i care to admit,
and i don't let myself wonder if i ever cross your mind;
i already know the answer

so, i'm waiting on a someday that is bound to disappoint me;
you are my sea
and yes, i am your rock

but there are lots of rocks in the ocean

to be quite honest,
i've never felt this way before.
and this seems odd because i've had
boyfriends in the past
short-term, long-term,
nice ones, mean ones,
young ones, old ones,

but my heart has never thumped this loudly
while waiting for a text
my grin has never been this wide
while talking on the phone

and my head has bombarded me with thoughts of
countless boys before,
but this time, i haven't figured out
how to stop thinking about you