How do the wounded ones find a love
that will heal their brokenness,
when no one wants to cut themselves on all of the jagged pieces?

Find your way into my cracked and tired heart,
and make me whole again.

Remind me what it's like to be alive.

I remember the gilded days
the gilded times and the ways you said you loved me
it felt like the breeze before a thunderstorm was approaching
and the next day we'd fight
or even the same day
we'd fumble and break
even miles away
when I say gilded I mean lovely
lovely but damaged,
when we'd see each other we'd fake the happiness and caress through the pain
and when I say gilded I mean bittersweet
you always said I fit you better than your favorite sweater
but that sweater had its tears
and we had our weaknesses
at first it was was each other
but then yours was her
and mine was still you
now when I said gilded I meant unbreakable yet shattered
like my heart when you said you love her
they say all that glitters is gold
but when I say gilded sometimes all that glitters isn't real
like a diamond bezel that's actually fake
just like
how you cared for me
but really
you cared for her and when I say gilded I mean when I longed for the times that you said you loved me
just like your favorite songs
and your favorite ideas
but when it wasn't the time for that
I would say I hate you and you'd say it back
we'd fuss and fight
I'd look for ways to feel empty
just like the last bottle I could find
and when I said gilded I meant Id act happy
but I was insane
so when I say gilded
I only mean it past tense
because now
these are the silver times
and when I say silver
not golden and gorgeous
but shiny and like steel
and realistically
I am now
worthy and almost healed.