Her

it's her

when it's 4 am and no one else answers as i sob into my pillow.

it's her 

after weeks and weeks of not reaching out to anyone, i get a dm asking if i drank water today.

it's her when she sits on the swing set in the back and and looks up at the sky like it's the first time she's seen it.

it's her when i fucking hate her music taste, but i'll learn all the words anyway, 

and it's her when she makes me so angry i could scream, 

and it's her when she makes me so full of love i could kiss her.

it's her when she looks like she's been broken by someone that didn't know what they were holding.

so you sit and glue her back together,

piece by piece 

so someone else can break her again. 

and it's okay

because you'll always be there to clean up the mess

no matter how many cuts you get from picking up the shards each time 

sharp tongues say things they don't mean

but they still draw blood.

you can't love the world away

but you can love away the pain it causes her.

i can't stop her from looking for love in places that only give hate 

and manipulate

but i can be there with a tub of ice cream and her favorite Olivia Rodrigo album. 

so maybe one day she can stop looking in places that can only cause pain 

and she can turn around and see that she's been loved this whole time. 

i hope she knows she is so loved.

and she is everything.