maybe if you didn’t **** up with me so terribly,
you wouldn’t find yourself drunk crying to my best friend,
saying how you won’t be able to handle hearing a song that makes you think of me.
maybe if you didn’t **** up with me so awfully,
you could have still been holding me in the concert crowd.

my body was yours once.
it was yours to explore,
to touch,
to scratch,
to kiss,
to learn.
i think that was my first mistake.
this body i’ve made my home in is mine.
the only person who should he exploring every flaw,
and scar,  
and disaster on my skin is me.
your fingers used to trace the scars on my collarbone,
but now mine do.
i’m learning how to love every bump and flaw on my body
so when i finally let someone love me again,
i’ll teach them how to love me fully.
i wonder if you ever loved me fully.
my body was once yours,
but this shell of mine is beautiful,
and ugly,
and wonderful,
and the only person she belongs to
is me.

each time he kisses me he kisses me like he’ll never see me again / each time you kissed me you kissed me like you wanted to never see me again

i have been thrown away so many times that you all are just enjoying digging through the ******* trying to find pieces you want to like

i want to be called beautiful again,
a word that sneaks its way into a sentence you say to me,
something you don’t realize that you’re doing.
i want to be called beautiful again,
and i want it to always mean something,
not lose its meaning if it’s said too much.
i want to be called beautiful again,
so much so that i start to believe it.

don’t you ever dare say you didn’t expect it.
when i finally crash my car into a tree,
take a few extra pills with a bottle of *****,
or trace the blue veins on my wrist with knife,
don’t you dare say you didn’t expect it.
don’t say i was beautiful.
don’t say i was okay.
because i screamed i wasn’t so many ******* times,
and yet you still left me crying on the floor,
wanting sleep more than for me to feel better.

what did i get myself into
to fall for someone like you