perhaps i beckon love
and failure
in proportion.

i know dresses don't fit me like a tube sock
and the skin around my fingernails is raw
but i'm tired of walking away from a love story
and feeling as if i'll never
walk home to one.

either i am very bad
at being human
or i am far
far
too good at it.

it’s almost like back then
i took the best that i could get.
now,
i just take the best.

you'll be the love of my life until my tan fades away,
then we'll walk through the halls and be strangers again

i am soft
and so so vicious
my wounds are rarely self-inflicted
more often self-worsened
but you’re making me smile
you’re making me giggle and lose sleep
in the best way
i am soft
and you make me even softer
one day i just might melt
in your hands.