I trampled the roses in my garden.
I didn't want anything beautiful in my presence.
Because I know every rose has its thorns,
and every monster has its claws,
and every human has its flaws...
I just didn't know yours would hurt so much.
I didn't know that words didn't just sting-
they haunted.
They would come back,
creep into my resting mind,
terrorize me into the early hours of dawn,
until I felt there was no escape.
Ghosts of insults say hello when I least expect it.
Or worse, the phantom I-love-you's that lay of the verge of my mind
make themselves known once more,
and slip off my tongue.
Your actions are bullets-
A shove of your shoulder, a shot to my leg.
A raised hand, a bullet in my stomach.
A cold glare, a shot to the heart
because the one person I still cared for
in this impossibly broken world
can't even look at me.
I know this shouldn't be happening.
I shouldn't care, shouldn't love you.
You should be dust on my textbook.
But you aren't; you're the words inside my skin.
Your lips are the sweetest candy and the sharpest of knives.
Your smile is the brightest of lights and the darkest of sins.
Your eyes are the prettiest of seas and the most dangerous of hurricanes.
I could describe you, word for word,
a book of poems just for you.
But I won't, I can't
because the likes of you aren't important-
your soul is on repeat.
I could lie and say you never cross my mind,
but what's the point?
You are all I am
and I don't know how to find home.
Tell me,
why do the most beautiful creatures
leave behind the most blood?
