So many broken pieces inside of me, I don't know where to start.
Maybe if I rip my skin open I can untangle my veins and put them back into place.
Maybe if I tear my lungs apart I can scrape off every bit of you that I inhaled.
Perhaps I can examine every bone and count every crack you made and multiply it by every inch of skin your lips brushed on my body.
Maybe if I cut my stomach open I can drip out the lifeless butterflies.
But what's the point anyway?
I can't wash away the memory of you.
No matter what, you'll forever be engraved into my brain.
I try to fix myself by drowning in alcohol.
I try to forget with a midnight smoke.
But I'm torn apart and I can't be fixed.
It's too late.
I'm a dangerous person to love because no matter what,
*I'm always the one who will love you more.