Maybe I Was Only Meant to Bleed

I fall in love with boys with broken glass
in their dark, messy hair
that I run my hands through, hoping
that maybe if I love him enough
he'll stay the night and I can feel his lips
against my own and curl up in his skin and become
the half to another's whole or
just erase myself completely with his existence.
But instead I only come away with blood
on my hands and the taste of iron on my lips.

You told me that I wouldn't be enough
and I believed you,
so I stopped trying to be and instead
I fell for girls with glass glimmering on their necks
surrounded by gold and silver and love,
girls who said they were ready to give it
all away.
And this time I tried to curl up inside her heart
instead of her skin,
but I still managed to cut myself
on her goodbye.

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