so maybe this isn’t a second chance
but what if it’s our last?
so dance with me this time
instead of your bottle of ***** at 3 am every night
and make love to the one you’re in love with
not just for validation
but for comfort in your relations
love the way you were put here
and let someone kiss your scars, dear
you’ll feel better after a good night’s rest
better than the the blade of a razor slicing across your chest
and your art can still be great
without killing what’s left of you in order to “create”
find someone who doesn’t want to domesticate you
and let them take your shades of blue
and turn them into purple hues
your mental state has never defined you
and you like to experiment, as if on cue
you text me at 11, and unable to get through to you
i leave you be
and then feel even worse the next morning when i wake up
too early to make up
lies
about everything you said last night
so instead i write
and i tell the truth
of course, i’ll never show any of this to you
but if you happen to find it
maybe you’ll be flattered to know
that you make beautiful art yourself,
but the art of observing you is something
only i have had the time to master