Furniture

My eyes are not windows
For you to look within
When searching for a view
You can't just draw the curtains closed
When it's not pretty
And my eyes become black
Which isn't the blue of the sky
That you wish to see

My heart is not a door
That you can just walk through
When you please
I didn't give you a key
For a reason but
You broke in anyways

My lungs are not a set of drawers
That you can fill with all of your
Trouble
Until
I can't breathe

My lips are not a blanket
In which you can cover up your sadness
When you push them against yours
Because
My tears are still falling

My body is not mirror
In which you can see the image
Of my eyes looking into yours
My heart in your hands
My lungs breathing in your air
My lips pressed against yours

I am not a piece of old, wooden
Furniture
In which you can store your
Messed up
Twisted
Thoughts within

I am not for your pleasure
Nor will I ever be

Don't you ever think you can just
Pick me up
Take me home and
Begin looking for an
Instruction manual
Underneath of my clothes

Because it's not that easy and
I cannot be put together in
Five simple steps
Or
With the set of tools
You keep hidden
Sitting in your desk

You will never be able to put me together
Because you are the one who broke me
And now I can't seem to figure out
How to fix myself

My eyes are hurting
And I am constantly
Reaching for a piece of
Furniture
To lean against