tell me again how lovely i am,

and i will tell you

that you cannot utter those compliments

until you have seen my eclipse

and the high tides i pull at my ankles

to accompany me.

you cannot tell me i'm wonderful

until you've experienced the way

i let grief hang from the tips of my hair

and the way my own fear

clings to what's left of my skin.

please don't tell me you love me

until you can see more light

in my cracks

than i see

in one day.