How to whittle my anxieties into shapes more suited to your ears is not a lesson I was taught in school.
Your presence in my life has left my heart dripping nectar, full to bursting with sweetness I can't contain.
But there are razor blades under my skin that will cut you before anyone can predict.
I'm trying to get them all out but you've found so many of them first.
I'm sorry for the scars knowing me will leave.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 11:47 PM UTC
How to whittle my anxieties into shapes more suited to your ears is not a lesson I was taught in school.
Your presence in my life has left my heart dripping nectar, full to bursting with sweetness I can't contain.
But there are razor blades under my skin that will cut you before anyone can predict.
I'm trying to get them all out but you've found so many of them first.
I'm sorry for the scars knowing me will leave.
Request permission to use this poem