Before you love me,
I need you to know that I am the cracked knuckles you got from punching a wall after your mother told you she was leaving for good.

I am the old mascara marks on your pillowcase you've yet to wash off, the window in your bedroom that won't open all the way and squeaks like hell during the night.

Before you love me,
You need to see me on the nights when I can't breathe correctly because my mind can't stop counting all the people I've lost.

You need to see me lock the door 17 times and make sure all the faucets aren't dripping at all because I'm afraid of drowning.

You need to hear my voice crack when I shout, raw and insecure. And know that I'm not violent but my words sting more than the 14 shots you took the night your ex broke your heart.

But before you love me,
I also want you to know that I love to pick flowers when I'm at stop lights and I'll give them to you but I always forget a vase.

I'll sing about how our eyes match and how you kick me in your sleep but I don't mind.

On days when you can't stand to live anymore I will vacuum up all your tears from the ground and we'll go to the roof and scream until our lungs collapse.

In the morning I will kiss the nectar from your cheeks and trace the letters of your name on your skin so you remember to always think of yourself first.

I'll probably dream of silly things and we'll laugh about them and I'll make you tea with extra honey because I know you love it.

And even though I know you hate it, I'll always smile because of your dimples and count the freckles on your back and give you a new reason to love you every day.

Most of all, before you even think about loving me, I need you to love yourself.