𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝗉𝗈𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗒

06 | LOVE, CHARLOTTE

i wish that i had
been the cure
rather than the
toxic chemicals
that made you
sick ( of me )
i wish that i had
been more
pure but i was
diluted with
self pity

my ink had
been watered
down by tear
drops and by
rain and though
the words look
violet now i
promise that
my pages were
every shade of
blue that they
could be

and then you
found me—
pages wet,
corners torn

you dried me
with your
m o t h e r ' s
hairdryer by
the coffee
table in
the lounge
you strung up
my hair with
ribbons just
like your sister
had taught you
to; you were a
spider, and i
your web— you
braided my hair
as if it ensured
your survival

and though you
were the
creature that
had sewn me
t o g e t h e r —
rethreaded my
pages back into
my fragile
leather bound
spine— i
couldn't but
feel like you
were the web
and i was just a
broken- winged
butterfly caught
up in all of
your threads
and the fairy
dust in your
e y e s

i feel like you
didn't quite
fully know nor
understand the
full extent of
my feelings for
you, i wish you
had; had
known how
much it hurt,
how much
it tickled, how
scared i was,
and most of
all— i wish that
you had known
how sad, albeit,
accepting i was
of our ending
that was soon
to come

i hope that the
next girl that
you get tangled
in will not be
afraid to show
how truly
beautiful that
you are, and
i know this is
late, but if i
were charlotte,
and i had to
describe you
with one word
written in the
fine cursive
lines of my
w e b —

g l i t t e r i n g
in the moonlight,
it would read,
❝EVERYTHING❞

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WRITTEN 3:37PM