my favorite person to talk to
is myself

i write too much about love
for someone who's never experienced it

i don't have a perfectly messy ponytail
my hair is chopped and styled in all the wrong directions
my skin is always too oily no matter how many times i wash my face in a day
i don't read nearly as much as i used to
my thoughts aren't "deep and insightful"
i won't reply to your text messages as quickly as you'll want me to
i write ****** poems that have no business being on a poetry website
my heart is too warm and too cold all at the same time
i have white scars on my body that spell out nothing but "weak"

but my eyes are a chocolate brown that could drown all of your sorrows
my small fingers are enough to lock hold on your heart
whenever i do reply to your messages, you'll have my full attention
my scars will fade
and my pores will shrink
my laugh will slice through the worst of times
and my size 6 feet will walk all over your demons

you aren't a hero and you never were
i can't believe how long it took me to realize that

i fall in love with at least 3 people a day
it's a disease, really
i fall in love with the way people glance down at their hands after being caught silently giggling with a baby bouncing happily on his mother's lap
i fall in love with the way people blink rapidly in attempt to regain their vision after rubbing their eyes so hard that stars are all they see
i fall in love with the way people grin sleepily when they snap themselves awake after nearly collapsing on a stranger's shoulder on the subway
perhaps this is something i should worry about
but for now, i'm okay with loving people temporarily

hi
i wish you were here
i miss you so much
i'm so sad

if ever a wall existed that was made out of all the times i writhed under your touch
i swear, i'm backed right up to it