My mother always told me
that beauty was a blessing,
but it was more of a curse.
I believed her,
and I was careful.
She never told me
anything about boys like you.
I wasn’t careful,
and I’m still not sure
if I mind at all.

You are drenched with the strongest poison,
the ones they use to make hearts stop
mid-beat,
every single pore in your body
seeps hatred and malice,
and it rejects every single
loving and gentle word I slowly ease in.
I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care
because I said goodbye to loving anyone else
as soon as you said my name for the first time,
that night under the streetlight,
and I’ll let all the bad parts in.
I know I can’t heal you,
but I can try.