Forgive me if my pain has touched you in ways my hands never have
You’ve got wounds I should have kissed gently and fire beneath your skin

Instead I bought you flowers you’re allergic to and wrote poems about your tears

Some days I tend to over-romanticise your bleeding lips that you never stop biting
Other days I can’t stand the way your lips curve when you laugh and the freckles on your hands

I’m a mess but believe me when I say my hands are clean
I’m just trying to love you
Even if it’s the wrong way