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100 things

there's a hundred things i want to tell you

like how i break right before your eyes but you only keep your sight on the things that don't matter, like my lips and hips, i wish you'd look me in the eyes and realize that i'm not okay

you would always grab me and pull me in, and if you meant it in a good way maybe i wouldn't break off in pieces but now i crumble whenever someone even takes a single look at my lips, my hips

there's a hundred things i want to tell you

like how i used to miss you before you took every little part of me, it's almost as if i'm in a constant state of hell, being so close to you in soul but so distant in form

you would always pick the good parts, the parts that wrote good poetry or the parts that could love the boy who could love me too, the parts that matter, that parts that gave me a reason to keep going on...