You told me once that you would break my heart. I asked you not to be such a goddamn cliche, but then you left me because part of you was still broken. You say some man
pried open the cracks of you, dug holes where once there were none, so now you just cannot love me how I deserve, and darling, therein lies the problem: you can you can you can
you can you can you can you can you can. Your reasons why are no good reasons why. We said we should not fall in love and then we showed each other our most quiet
scars: my wrists, your upper thighs, and now you say this too easily: you say you cannot stay.
