There goes that boy that misses every
detail you are, and yet you murmur about
how you're an overly rusted bike in an
abandoned parking lot

He waits on you, he washes your dishes right
after you finish your plate of self hatred and
he replaces them with the words
you are way stronger than you believe yourself to be
and he writes
casual love notes on the palms of your hands because
he knows that you secretly depend on words
to make it another day-

But every time he wipes your bloodied war face
and pounds the salt from the tears on your eyes
with
you're unique, you're wonderful, you're lovely

you think he's wants something,
***, a hook up, what you dish out to the
boys with the overused pick up lines like an ice cream
truck in mid July

but darling, he really means it this time
he likes you, sorta