i would have married you at fifteen.
my love was as sincere, as it probably
ever will be.

you,
you were ashamed of me.
but you liked the company.
so you held my hand when
no one could see.

i would have killed myself at seventeen,
to prove the weight of my want,
but that would have been a bit blunt.

you,
you thought it was some sort of stunt.
but it made you feel important,
running from a creature on the hunt.

i would of rather had anyone else at eighteen.
find salvation between another girl's thighs,
to uncover all the whys.

you,
you held marriage high,
wanted me to to spend my life side-by-your-side.
instead, you spent six months having a good cry.