I'm in love with someone's daughter
living in the shards of a broken home
Cutting herself on two year-old letters
These are moments she can't fake;
reasons to feel alone
So used to abuse, her tears start to shake
I hold her close as her head starts to ache
"I love you too much,
so I can't let your heart break."
She said, "I know you love me,
but you've made a mistake."

I never meant for anyone to be my pulse.
I promise not to step on your feet
if you teach me how to waltz.

I prefer you over sleep
Your dark brown eyes engulf me
Keep talking
Drowned out my enemy's
I prefer sad faces
Over bright smiles
I'm attracted to broken people
So why can't I love myself?
Drape your black hair over my pillow again
Make these thoughts go away
I prefer you over sleep
I prefer music over nicotine

To be what they want
Is to win a battle
To be who you are
Is to win a war

We have this habit of making homes
out of people who tend
to burn any moment.

And we keep collecting the ashes,
putting them in jars,
hoping to save what little remains.

We made ourselves believe that other people
are remedies; prescribing—injecting ourselves with drugs
that walk and talk and breathe

And I have long since realized that we have seas inside us,
and there are a thousand shipwrecks aching for freedom,
but we hold on to every damaged piece.