Some choose
To tell their stories
She wears hers
On her skin

Someday I’ll wake
And find you next to me
Until then I just have my dreams
And my poetry

Your love is like spilled ink
My heart is like paper
The more I try to wipe you away
The more you spread
Infecting every inch of me
I try to erase you
Only to tear myself in the process
The harder I try
The more I fall apart
Until there is nothing left
But tattered pieces
Of ink and useless paper

I know you are too good for me
But that won’t stop me from trying
To be good enough for you