there are things that no one has bothered to teach people like you
the ones who change friends with the weather and sit at tables crowded with people who don't know your name as if it can trick your brain into thinking you're less alone than the lack of people surrounding you
and it works almost like magic
pandora's box is presented in front of you
and you have no hands on your shoulder telling you not to peek
the gods above you are silent, no matter how tightly you push your palms together, your requests fall on deaf ears
with no warnings or red ribbons or safety locks
all of your past experiences forgotten
all of your mother's advice shoved deep into the parts of your chest that are closed off to the public
all of the nights that come seven months later hidden under your pillowcase
you forget the taunting "daddy issues" and how you flinch every time someone raises their voice
you exist openly, in a way that you've heard is synonymous with recklessness for the ones who haven't documented the way you stay up for hours each night begging the stars to send someone to love you
begging the gods who have shunned you
to stop losing your pieces when you hit the pavement
there are things that no one has bothered to teach people like you
there are lessons that you've had to learn from experience
your cautiousness clashes with recklessness and your abandonment fears are categorized as something else entirely
and no matter how you paint this picture
it is not poetic
you do not fall in love
you fall and fall and fall apart