you molded me, soft, in your hands- a wheel at Pottery Barn- and I couldn't say "no" (impossible, at that point, since I was so sure the sun set in your palms and the moon only rose upon your permission) so I let you turn me into someone new, someone I thought you could love. your words tore open my chest and mixed with my veins. they whispered "you are beautiful, you are lovely, you are everything" and I soaked it up until you had nothing to give but apathetic shrugs and a mind that was always somewhere else. I expected too much of you, but how could I not when you had promised me every star in the sky on its own individual string?