I wish you were the type of boy that could fall in love with words,
who believes that the way my hair falls and the width of my legs aren't
the only parts of me that can be beautiful.
If you could become infatuated with a combination of syllables
then maybe you could learn to appreciate
the girl who wrote them.

But you're not that boy, you're too busy trying to
overcome your own past, and in a way,
I understand.

What I will never grasp, however, is
how you could hurt a girl that only ever
confided in you, a girl that gave you
every inch of her aching heart and just
wanted for you to listen to the
irregular beats.

I simply wanted for you to notice that I was
hurt,
but you assumed that I was
broken.

I never was, and never will be, broken.
I ******* promise you that.