Its 12:46 and I'm wondering if she's the one you're staying up late for. Does she fill your stomach with butterflies, like I did? Does her name sound so sweet it melts in your mouth when you say it? Does she graze your skin with her fingertips, like I did? Does the taste of her mouth get you drunk? Does she stare into your green eyes and melt into them, like I did? Does she point out when your lower lip trembles? Does she curl her fingers into yours, like I did? Do they fit just as perfectly? Does she kiss you deeply in the morning as she does in the night, like I did? Do her hips fit perfectly in your hands? Does she tell you how much you mean to her, like I did? Do you hesitate before saying it back? Does she smile at you from a distance, like I did? Does she bring you laughter even when she's gone? Does she love you as much as I did? Do you love her as you loved me?
Or did you never love me to begin with?...

You held my hand,
You gave me hope,
You said I'll never be alone.

You called me yours,
I called you mine.
Throughout time,
It became a lie.

She popped up,
Like a jack-in-the-box.
She took your hand,
She showed you her ways,
You left me for her.
Today was the day

I cried,
My eyes turned red,
I no longer can cry,
I feel dead.

You said forever,
I said it too,
But baby,
You knew the truth.

I fell in love,
I gave it my all.
But in the end,
I was always alone.

My parents tell me to stop bringing misfits home.

Stray cats, lost dogs, lonely people.

Anything sad in the neighborhood, sad in my sight, I bring home with me.

The poor teenagers up the hill, the stoners dazed by the lake, the girls with broken souls and the boys with broken minds. Survivors of all kinds of abuse find refuge with me.

I carried an orange cat home one day, I found him walking around a construction site. He was fed and given something to drink, and we found his owner.

A puppy only a few weeks old, eyes still closed, deathly ill. We bottle fed it and took it to the vet, but it was too late. She said she had a damaged spine and wouldn't make it. I stroked her head as she stopped breathing.

I brought a schizophrenic boy home and helped him through an attack in our living room, while my parents sat horrified in the kitchen.

No less than three girls have cried on my shoulder in the safety of my bedroom, traumatized by rapes they didn't know how to talk about.

These strays, these wounded souls....These are my people. I love them all.

So when they say "stop bringing such damaged things home" it breaks my heart.

And I do it anyways.