i look at the bags beneath my eyes and i see a crime scene,
a restless heart made of shattered  glass bottles
and shouted words sharp enough to cut through skin
and i wonder why anyone would choose
to love someone like me

you’re the kind of boy with electric lips,
the kind of boy who bleeds poetry
and you’re a crime scene just like me,
one that screams danger,
you set everything around you on fire
yet i wouldn’t mind being turned to ash by you

i’m a ticking bomb of interrupted love
and i worry that you’ll leave me,
that you’ll run away with my fleeting heart
still tiredly beating in your hands
and i’ll be forced to destroy everything around me
just because you couldn’t love a girl who couldn’t love herself

i fear the day i’ll wake up on the ground
realizing that i am just another painted face
in your pile of broken girls with expiration dates