I am in love
with eyes that don't see me.

I gave you the match
to burn my paper heart.

In your lips, I found the cosmos.
I found the me that loved herself,
the me that existed outside of
the melancholy songs and messy poetry on restaurant napkins.
I made my paper-home in your ribcage
but I failed to see the lit match balanced
dangerously between your calloused fingertips.

(I miss you like the moon misses the sun.)

You were sickeningly sweet,
and I was desperate to be saved.
You were everything to me.

(I was not brilliant enough.)

I was naïve in my loving.
I never thought that something so pure,
could turn so dark inside my mind.
That's the thing about me,
I pull things apart in my head
until they're mere fragmented versions of what they used to be.
We were no exception.

("I desire the things that destroy me in the end.")

The phone calls got shorter,
my heart cracked a little with each
missed encounter.
I felt myself slipping through the cracks
of your brilliant pavement.

(I am falling apart day by day.)

You didn't know how much it hurt to feel yourself
being forgotten.
You didn't know how it felt to be the television version
of a person with a broken heart.
I didn't know that fading away
felt worse than burning out.

(Will drinking cyanide **** the burning in the pit of my stomach?)

I guess now I see that you can't really save people,
all you can do is love them.

I’m homesick for arms that don’t want to hold me.

I stand on the rocky ground between heaven and hell.
My mother once told me that you can't have it all,
but she never met you with your sweet lips and soft eyes.
I loved you deeply,
fully,
wholly.
I loved you more than I loved my own consciousness.

Somone once told me that falling in love
felt a lot being set on fire.
Watching as you disappeared in front of your own eyes,
dwindling down to ashes,
love felt a lot like being ablaze.

You were my inferno.
You were reckless and you burned bright enough to blind me,
but you also warmed me from the inside out.
Looking back,
I can't tell where you stopped warming me,
and began burning me.
I never noticed my fingertips turning to ash
and my heart hardening from your touch.
But I needed you.
I needed warmth, even if I knew from the beginning
that you'd be my demise.
I would always choose the most lethal weapon.
You were no exception.

Your love was fire,
it left me with scattered fragments of my former self.
And it's tragic that I'll always need someone to piece me back together
so that I can feel whole again.
When I loved you,
I watched everything fade around me,
until you were the only one left in my universe.
So when you left,
I felt this desolation that swallowed me from the inside.
Love is a paper boat that sinks,
and I am a sailor that never learnt how to swim.

There are moments in which
I convince myself that the sun shines in your eyes.
There are also moments in which
I'm afraid I'll drain you of that very light that drew me to you.
I've only ever taken from people,
I've only ever fallen out of love,
but your lips feel more like home that any house I've ever lived in.
People says that humans are like toys,
initially interesting but eventually jaded.
But what I've learnt is that people aren't like toys at all.
They can't be fixed with a few screws and some glue.
What I've learnt is that you can't really fix a person,
all you can do is love them,
and loving is hard for a girl that's only ever known airport terminals
and indefinite goodbyes.
But I'm willing to try my best for the boy who has eyes that shine that shine as bright as the morning sun.