I used to hide out in blankets of ice behinds walls of steel reading a book written in his blood. I used to let his ink seep into my nerves and down into my spine dissolving the backbone I once had.
I used to cover the mirror with rose-coloured tape hoping to shy away from self-loathing while laughter left my lips in bouts. I cut my hair, hoping it would cut him out and grow happiness in its absence.
But then you snuck into the crook of my heart through the cracks in my skin. And you saw a body pulsing with more than just blood more than just flesh and bone and muscle. You can trace my anger with your eyes and settle the fear that ignites my bones. I almost ran away, clutching my brokenness to my chest but you didn’t let go. You’re the first to make my tongue bleed with happiness and melt my ribs into your body.
You taste like sin and smell like trouble but I’ve never been good enough to care. And even though I swore I’d never falter over another man’s face as long as I lived, all that’s ever been missing was you.