You wanted to know how
I cut my lip but I was silent
Teasing you claimed I liked
To be a mystery
Dancing in a summer dress
But I simply couldn’t admit
That I was bleeding from
The chipped mug I ought
To throw out because
Then you might ask why
I won’t replace the screen
That lets all the bugs in
Or why I stole your old converse
When you said they had
Run their course
But I love the worn out soles
The way I’m married to
Holes in my socks and
Neighborhood cats missing eyes
It was only when my fingers
Traced your fault lines that
I fell for you
But you love mysteries dancing
In summer dresses so I just
Smiled through the crack in my lip.


64 notes | Reblog | 1 year ago
Posted on April 18th at 12:22 AM
Tagged as: spilled ink. poetry. broken things.
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