This Is How You Love The Girl Who Will Never Be Perfect


I am the girl men turn to in order to forget slivers of yesterdays they don’t want to remember, as though I am the best way to run past the greyness of weeks and years kissed brusquely by routine and washed-out dreams. As though I have much to give, as though the pallor of my cheeks are enough to paint their mornings in shocking technicolor, as though I have within my palms the answer to prayers they never thought to ask for.

No guarantee of constant bliss. I can assure you of sleepless nights underneath starry skies but not of continuous evenings such as this. I can assure unplanned journeys through unmapped streets and dirt roads but, I’m sorry, if I run away at the slightest kiss.

I am an accident about to happen -a timebomb about the explode. The reason why they scratch names on tombstones and place signs on pedestrian zones. There is no rope to tie me down, I had already built my own gilded cage -determined not to let anyone too close to see how much of an unhinged, hollow spectacle I can be (without the coffee, without the tea, without the smile I wear ear to ear, with just me and 300 complaints packed in a suitcase).

I won’t beg for you to keep your fingers intertwined with mine because I can’t promise you enough warmth from my own. You make me wish I wasn’t broken as much just so I can give you all that you lack. But I’m a walking carcass with an eggshell of a heartbeat and there is not much left of me.

If I run away all of a sudden, I apologize. I am restless and unkind even to myself. But I will always keep a pocketful of your words in the back of my mind. I can’t be owned and I don’t wish to be. Don’t try to rebuild or mend me while you listen to the crossfire of my thoughts in the morning. I had earned enough scars to write poetry.

I will tell you a thousand reasons why you should leave but if you really mean to stay, then please do.

Relearn the world with me.