One day it will stop.
You will stop seeing my stubborness as  my cute attitude,
But you will see my father in it.
And when you see my father in it,
You will see my habit of getting angry at everything I do and others do.
One day you will stop seeing flowers blossoming from my lungs,
But rather my nails ripping out of flesh so anxiously,
As if it had been trapped for decades with no food.
One day all of the “I love yous” and the “you are so beautifuls”
Will stop
They will end
And I will be left here,
With so many more I love yous to say
So many more times I can tell you my soul
But no way of transcribing them to you
And i will be left to sit in my room
On a sunday afternoon
Writing a story,
About how with the next boy
One day it will stop too.