So she spoke to me
with elaborate hand gestures,
she spoke to me with passion on her breath and pain between her teeth,
her eyes wild, lighting up, animated, the color of chocolate.
In that moment they looked so cavernous i felt like i could reach my hand deep into those hershey kisses, inside her torn up, beautiful brain.
If I did, i wonder what i'd find?
Maybe a jumble of words, syllables, and lines, the words she searches for.
Amongst the mess i'd see polaroids and music notes
and maybe id know what she thought when she looked at me.
She spoke to me like a person without a broken past or a ******* up mind
and to think
she spoke to me about her triumphs and mine, about how she thought I was beautiful, and strong, and inspiring
those words slipped through my ears and poked at my brain, making me forget about all the things i hate about myself.

as she spoke to me i could almost feel the vines wrapping around my sternum and the flowers blooming between my ribs

as she spoke to me i could almost see myself as she did, almost

as she spoke to me, i almost told her how inspiring she is to me, how beautiful and strong but i couldn't find the perfect words, and thats what she deserved, perfect words.

as
she
spoke
to
me