Everything

~

She's a self-proclaimed mess
and a you-complained screwup
and the only things that ever flecked her brown eyes
were wish-wasted lashes and
you-wasted tears.

She can never fall asleep on her back
(maybe all the knife-wounds haven't healed yet)
and the only way you'll get her to say
it hurts
is if you convince her well enough.

The only time she's
photogenic
is when she suffer-smiles,
(and she looks pretty damn gorgeous, too)
and she only thinks best in abstract, tilted logic
and disconnected adjectives.

Her life is music and writing and
you,
but she can never say it
in words embellish-less and
metaphor-proof enough
to explain.

She's a reader, a writer, a dreamer,
a fool;
but the false-brave need
to be needed, too.

And perhaps
someday
she'll find what she doesn't know
she's looking for,
and maybe she'll learn to
feel
again.