maybe burning away your name on paper will burn away the memory of you in my head.
my hair will swallow the smell of smoke as if the thought of you burned away in my brain.

she was someone you didn't want to stop looking at.
you had to pay attention to her, or you would feel like you were missing something.
you payed attention to how she read a ragged old novel with a title you never heard of,
how she gripped it so hard, her fingers turned white that you almost couldn't see the tattered cuticles that surrounded the black nail polish of her nails.
how she held a cigarette delicately, taking in long drags as she lifts it to her mouth.
how when she was outside, the sun changed her hair color so much you couldn't even tell what it really is.
you payed attention to her smile, her laugh, her eyes as they met yours, crinkling as you tell her something funny.
you payed attention to how her hand felt in yours,
a tight grip as if she never wanted to let go, forever wanting to be yours,
but her hand always let go,
and when your hand was empty,
you realized she never was yours to begin with.
but you never wanted to stop looking at her.

I was always told to not fall for the broken boy, but look where I am again. I've fallen for yet another piece of broken glass and I'll end up bleeding, getting cut up on his pieces, but there isn't a way for me to stay away.

most girls always have something simple and silly they're attracted to in a guy. their last names all start with S, they all have green eyes, brown hair. while I'm attracted to shattered. broken. lost.

maybe it seems like we both could put each other back together, but it's not that easy. this isn't a John Green book, a tumblr post, we both can't hug each other tight enough that our pieces will stick back together.

because guess what? they're sharp. and we're gonna get hurt.

sometimes I want the blade other times I want you because honestly *what's the difference

to the self harmer holding the blade, wanting nothing more but for it to kiss flesh, know that you've been days clean and you don't deserve another scar.

to the self harmer digging your nails into your thigh after a fight with your parents, know that this storm will pass.

to the self harmer shaking as you bury countless blades in the dirt, know that you've never been as strong as you are now.

to the self harmer hiding deep under your skin, know that your scars are nothing more than a reminder that you're still alive.

to the self harmer rocking the realest smile you have had in weeks, you made it.

I want to write you terrible poetry about the way you look at me,
and paint you pictures of your favorite things that leave a sparkle in your eye.
I want you to hold my hand with the thought of never letting go because you're scared of what could happen if you did.
I want you to read me your favorite passage from your favorite book,
and let me just listen to your voice as the words fall from your lips.
I want you to touch me in the places where I fell for someone else but they didn't catch me, and kiss me, whispering on my lips that you'll never drop me.
I want you to want me as much as I want you.