You are just lonely, lovely nonetheless,
and your heart is still broken
still missing pieces
but still able to hold onto chunks of bad relationships and
potential past lovers.
You love like you are running out of breath
and gravity.
You run with arms slightly lifted and spine slightly slumped.
Sometimes you coordinate your bad posture with the bad one night stands with the bad boys who only cared to show you off. Like trophy wife and empty kitchens. Broken white picket fences and untrimmed lawns. The hallway closet is unkempt. Matches your mane. You wonder if anyone could ever love you with a heart filled of lion and a city built from shadows. You watch your own silhouette dance after midnight. You've come to realize that you are a ghost. You are haunted by the chances you did not take and the kisses you should have not gone for. You blame your exhaustion on your anemia. You learn you are hiding your sadness. You compare your love life to a curse and your beauty to a short shot of luck. You still don't know how to take compliments so you say thank you and fall in love with whoever looks at you with their hearts in their eyes. You keep your eyes to the ground and hope the gravity will lessen the fall. It works for you because your walls are cement and their efforts are grains of sand. They will try to wake up next to you in the morning and they will smile. Sometimes they will kiss you on the forehead to try to change your mind. You drift back to sleep. You wake up when they are gone. You leave before they make a home out of you.
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