aligning stars

The things we do for love

When I told her I loved her the first time, she said, "How?"
As if I could make a list and lay it out for her to see. As if I could even put these reasons into words. As if I understood the feeling myself.
That's when I knew I was in trouble because I loved a girl who couldn't love herself. I loved a girl who didn't want to love herself because she thought the sadness was beautiful and that scars were worn as accessories. And it wasn't her fault, no. She was programmed to be this way, everything shouting 'fragile, small, perfect, delicate, beautiful, fragile'. So one night she hollowed out her soul, using her brothers old pocket knife so she could become a shell, a vessel. She was empty, but she was light which was all that really mattered to her.
I loved a girl who bought a one way ticket for the most processed version of 'six feet under' and she loved the ride. She was already gone because she'd lived the lie for so long that she began to believe it. She wasn't just giving up without a fight, she was going willingly.
I fell in love her, and as the tide dragged her down, I let her take me too.