and you know me
as the dahlias growing in my mom's garden
but in the parts that aren't so pleasant
I'm the clippers that cut their growth
and you know me
as the curls on the underside of my hair
but in the parts that aren't so pleasant
I'm the knots and the tangles that hurt to brush out
and you know me
as the rings on my fingers, the sparkly ones I suppose
but in the parts that aren't so pleasant
I'm the one who leaves the rings on the side of a restaurant sink to be lost forever
and you know me
as the warm and fuzzy blankets that my grandmother stitches together
but in the parts that aren't so pleasant
I'm the blanket in the grass when I break all trust I've been given
and you know me
as my laugh
my fucking laugh
but in the parts that aren't so pleasant
I'm the dreadful quiet that makes your ears ring when no one will pick up the phone
and you know me
as the drives in the night as the music plays
but in the parts that aren't so pleasant
I'm the car parked behind the garage when there's no other place for the alone time desired
and you know me
as a vocabulary that stretches to the grand canyon
but in the parts that aren't so pleasant
I'm the texts that wait for answers as you beg me to help you understand at 1am, at 2am, at 5am
and you know me
as the stars in the night sky
and the northern lights
and the pool lights
and the lights in the fish bowl
and the christmas lights after midnight each year
and the lights on the back porch when I drink for the first time
and the lights that hang from your house when your mom turns them on
and the light of the moon through the blinds in the room with the small bed
and the light of the fire
and the light of the tv when I told you I loved you
but in the parts that aren't so pleasant
it'll be hard for your eyes to adjust to the dark
and you know me
and you know me
and you know me
and you don't know me
