she smells like rain on a humid summers day and she tastes like blackberries freshly picked off the bush.
when she laughs, it makes the humming birds sound like nails on a chalkboard and i know how cliche this all sounds but she walks like an angel and i cant help but notice she sings with her tears, she disperses the pain. she makes me want to write about butterfly's and flowers instead of cut wrists and veins.
I tell her I love her. She replies with a kiss never confessing her love but I say it anyways because her smile creates this feeling in me I haven't felt since childhood and she needs to know she is loved. when I feel her bones on my hips I cringe she's so thin.
The disorder, it's gotten hold of her. We both have bruised knuckles and neither one wanting  to confide in another the reason we shake.
But I know her secret and I know she knows too. We've never been on a date because dates consist of eating and neither one of us are ready.
Ready to show our own bruises, our protruding broken hearts. I just hope they melt together and if they don't I'll sew them. We can beat together because we already do. We hurt the same, we have he same demons and they visit us at night when were alone and always lonely.
Hold my hands I'll hold yours too but your fingers they're so cold I fold them to my heart. If we're together tonight the monsters stay hidden, fall in love with each other, not in love with our demons.