I think I'm always going to crave pain in the form of love.
I wait for an excuse to throw bombs
While I prepare to dodge bullets.
All I've known is war, and all I've felt are wounds.
My heart is on edge
Waiting for the next time it
Trips
And
Falls
Into
Disappointment
But the real disappointment is that I'm expecting this all from you.
We have all cut open other people
(though not all have been cut badly, we're unlucky)
And you have Stitched me up so well.
You've healed me
From Scrapes and bruises you did not inflict.
But here I am
Weapons raised
Waiting
To
Attack
I have found I do not tread lightly on love
I have a knife in my back pocket
Ready for a fight instead of flight.
So please
When you find yourself bleeding
Don't say I didn't warn you
