I met you four years ago
and I hated you .

four years later ,
and we are holding each other
on you mattress , and I'm
stuck between finding warmth
in arms that aren't mine ,
and mining trees to make sticks .

you always end up holding me .
you always end up holding me .
you always end up holding me .

and I'm realizing now
that you aren't holding me
so that I will feel better ;
you are holding me because
you see me cracking
and you see the pieces of my
heart breaking off into your hand
and you don't walk away .

you're good at making things ,
and you know how to
put it back together .

and it scares me
that you take so much time
and care into looking at each
piece and finding its place .
because you see things
that I haven't seen .

maybe you're an angel
sent from god to prep me for
eternity ,
or maybe you're a demon
sent from hell
as a house-warming gift ,
but at this point
it doesn't matter ;

just as long as I got to keep you
for a little while .