i. i kept the books you gave me, every silly knicknack / and i read through the old letters you wrote back in the 90s, mailed ‘round the world and back again, as tokens / of someone i never got to know / i traced the family back and i hated every second / decided it was better just not to know

ii. and in case things don’t work out / in case fate decides to rip us away, i’ll freeze this moment in my brain / because i am not ready to be eighteen yet / i’m not ready to drown under the weight of myself / i am scared, my darling / but i’m not going to ask you for help 

iii. i sent you the messages / that you’ll read, and never reply to / searched for subtext that i don’t fucking understand / and never found it in the wastepaper bin / i didn’t rock the boat / i didn’t say a word / i bowed my head and let the storm come in 

iiii. and i lingered / i was selfish and young, and i made my mistakes / should have seen them coming, ten miles down the road / but i didn’t, and i don’t regret it / i don’t regret being softhearted and falling for lies, again and again / i don’t regret  being so dizzy from the beauty of the world / i forgot my place for a moment / even if i’ll never be that girl again

iiiii. i can’t believe where i come from / i can’t believe where i’m headed / caught in the spider’s web with butterflies and moths, yet again / writing poetry on the floor at 12am / it just all starts to pour out of me / ‘cause i’m dusting off all the old books i never read / closing my eyes, and trying to find it in myself to start over again 

iiiiii. cause no excuses was great / until it wasn’t / until my brain sounded like metal against asphalt, sharp and bracing / and i wake up feeling tired and dull every morning / gave everything to the first person who asked nicely / i can see how the years will blur by so quickly / i’ll leave pieces of myself like breadcrumbs, everywhere i go / i’ll be 25 and still looking in the mirror, trying to draw the line between perfectionism and devotion to my craft 

iiiiiii. cause when you’re staring at your tired face in the toothpaste-smudged mirror / it has a way of all looking just about the same / i’ve got self-fulfilling prophecies tucked under my sleeve / i’ve got complexes for days / i’m sharp and i’m tired / and i am trying to ask nicely / if you could stay

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