Maybe I'm the dark brown eyes you stare into The ones you see your reflection in
Maybe I'm the hand combing through your jet black hair Or the voice in the wind on an empty rooftop bar
Maybe I'm the brain you treat lesser than yours Or the body in the room that tells you that you're not alone
Maybe I'm the throbbing **** you leave red Mac lipstick stains on Or the stern screams that remind you of your father
Maybe I'm the lips touching your left cheek Or the fingers that fix your nose ring
Who am I if not for all the times I've been cheated on? Why should I be more than a pincushion For all the times your dad didn't tell you he loved you? Who would I be to all of you if I weren't eyes, hands, barely a brain, a ****, and lips ? Who am I if not a string of traumas Walking my way through a path paved with eggshells and broken glass? Who am I?