pain breeds not beauty but your beauty pains me
I almost cut the bow on my wrists
I almost gave in to my throat's strain
I almost drowned my poor old pillow
In this wine from my own veins
But I pretended you were there
And yes, you were there, too
I heard what you'd have said
I believed it to be true
I remembered that you loved me
I like to think it's still a thing
I imagined your arms around me
I refused myself that sting
You told me you would love me
With or without scars
You told me you would be there
Never let me venture far
No further than our front yard
Without you right behind
No further than you could reach
Forward your hand to mine
One palm on my waist
Two lips blanket mine
Four eyes all shut tight
My broken skin is fine
This poem is about:
Me