I meticulously pick the cracked and peeling fingernail polish from my fingers.
Staring down.
Focusing on anything but your eyes.
The beating of your heart like a metronome,
setting the rhythm of the room.
You've whispered me your secrets, stumbled in love with my evasive glances, blotted out my smudges and redecorated them in your mind.
I am your thrift store find,
a treasure, nonetheless.
I put my head against your machine of a chest,
My mouth shape the empty words into something resembling truth.
My hungry soul is a picky starving child.
Not so innocent,
I greedily collect hearts in my hands and groan as they grow heavy, too afraid to give them back.
Yours is the freshest.
I am the one weathering your heart.
With my silence. / With my tears. / With my selfishly stolen kisses.
I want to tell you to run away, but my own fear of loneliness paralyzes my tongue.
"you're beautiful, you have cute feet, and I love you."
As you slip a delicate silver shackle around my neck.
The tiny silver heart dangles above my own.
I want to tell you to run away, but my own fear of loneliness paralyzes my tongue.