if my father has taught me anything in twenty years
it is to avoid a man with any resemblance of him
and it's not that I feel sorry for myself but if we're being honest
he broke my mother's heart before mine was ever intact
and I was born trying to piece together a mess of a man with no intentions of being saved
because I believed every drunken "baby things will be different soon"
and I thought that if you loved someone it meant pulling them out of the pit they dug themself into
so I keep letting people fall temporarily in love with me
and trying to fill the gaps of my past with boys with their own open wounds
hoping my words are a scapel until they realize I'm just a human and not a surgeon
I just knew what it felt like to have your heart ripped into shreds before I even knew what organs were

you touch me and the cracks in my lips bleed I bite them so hard
no one has ever been this close
your fingers draw circles on the back of my legs
you kiss every part of me I say I'd like to change
then your lips drip honey on all of my wounds
(the same ones he used to call a burden)

my poetry isn't about you anymore
and I'll be the first to admit there was a time where my mind could only piece together thoughts of you
and words fell from my mouth unwittingly
with nothing but metaphors
to romanticise the way you left
but I won't belittle all this world has to offer again
by thinking you are all there is
I used to think I was born with heartbreak in my blood
but I've realized I keep running towards it mistaking it for love

boys don't like girls whose feelings drip out like water
so I get dizzy off red wine instead of my thoughts
I want to kiss your lips and let you in the fortress I built around my mind
but all the progress I've made will mean nothing
and I can only pretend to be simple for so long until you'll realize I may be too much to love

I am still learning how to fill the gaps of the pieces you took when you left
all of the skin you traced knows it will never feel you again
and I like to believe your fingers are aching and your stomach hurts remembering the loss of me
I hope you make something worthy of all your regret
I bet it hurts to know you'll never know the girl that I'm becoming

I dream of London in the fall and I dream of you
coffee breath kisses and gentle words
entertwined in silk sheets and the sounds of the city open our tired eyes
I tell you the way everyone else was just a comparison to you
and you tell me my scars are your favorite
and you trace every bruise on my body
and I whisper that I'd face all of my pain over again if it led me to you
falling for you is a work of art

and it's always about the timing or the circumstances
it's always an "I'm busy" text message that fades into days of silence
it's when you notice how he used to compliment your mind
and now he only ever calls you beautiful when you're bare inbetween his sheets
and you tell yourself he's just a boy
this is what boy's do
it will get better
but "you're my girl" turns into "I don't think this is working"
and you're crying again
and you wonder why you keep having the same ending with different people

and you're wide awake in the middle of the night wishing he'd call
and then he'll miss you enough to want you but never enough to stay
and you worry you are so good at finding the wrong love you won't know how to recognize the right