angelealowes:

“you were always heavy fists, broken floorboards. i was always wolf-girl, teeth bared the minute you walked into the room. took these shards of broken glass and called it love. loved the way it distorted my reflection. loved the way it showed me who i wasn’t until i forgot who i wanted to be. a year later, finally found the words to call you the let down you turned out to be. broke another glass when it sunk in that i let you turn out this way. another: the year i spent blaming myself for your inability to love anything more than yourself another: cleaning up all this broken glass another: pulling the splinters out of your knuckles another: more glass another: more glass another: more glass spin it sweet, say the blood tastes like cherries. like love. another: the glass in my mouth another: the glass in my hair another: self abuse told like a love poem
another: you taught me only how to love in shards
another: always loving with bloody hands and there’s all this glass left on my bedroom floor.
and i don’t see myself clearly. and this boy has never
put his fist through anything and i don’t know what
to do with hands that aren’t looking for another gun. another: glass in the dustpan
another: a year without your name in my mouth
another: glass still in the poem
another: glass still in the girl
another: boy with surgical hands
another: another:
another: i heave up the taste of cherries.
i pull the glass out of my own knuckles.
i forget your name. i learn my own reflection again.”

— Walls Could Talk, Angelea Lowes (via wildfairy)