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You wonder how she'd love you. In the ways I never could, In ways too clumsy and honest, just like you, Parts of myself I let die early on In favor of thicker skin That silhouette in your eye betrays you But I've learned not to ask What you're thinking about Those glances just beyond me Because were you to pry Into all these boarded tunnels, You'd find her buried in me a thousand times Murdered by my suffering I wonder if you know, you've never been forgiven But Love is a magic trick Trivial to those who understand how it works But many of us Are enraptured by the performance I wonder how she'd love you If you'd make her feel less lonely Because she'd pry the nails off Let you into the attic of her past lives Your fingers could pull handfuls of her pain Out of future gardens Places in my soul I'd never let you touch Where I buried my bodies Where I planted beautiful things And cultivated this Still rising Not quite a phoenix Or a shooting star The thing that admits it is ugly Because ugly is appreciated for what it is In a way that beauty never could be
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Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
The New Girl
You wonder how she'd love you. In the ways I never could, In ways too clumsy and honest, just like you, Parts of myself I let die early on In favor of thicker skin That silhouette in your eye betrays you But I've learned not to ask What you're thinking about Those glances just beyond me Because were you to pry Into all these boarded tunnels, You'd find her buried in me a thousand times Murdered by my suffering I wonder if you know, you've never been forgiven But Love is a magic trick Trivial to those who understand how it works But many of us Are enraptured by the performance I wonder how she'd love you If you'd make her feel less lonely Because she'd pry the nails off Let you into the attic of her past lives Your fingers could pull handfuls of her pain Out of future gardens Places in my soul I'd never let you touch Where I buried my bodies Where I planted beautiful things And cultivated this Still rising Not quite a phoenix Or a shooting star The thing that admits it is ugly Because ugly is appreciated for what it is In a way that beauty never could be
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Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
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