i didn't love a lot about you,

which scared me almost half as much as it made me feel strong.

 

but i loved

how every inch of you was written in a different language

and on the lucky nights i was fluent,

and

sometimes

i knew all the passwords to places you kept locked away

 

and on the worst nights i was lost.

and i begged you not to disappear on me again

and it fell on deaf ears, foreign words from native tongues.

 

i loved that your mattress was on the floor

 

you said it was because you were getting yourself together,

you'd get a frame for it someday

you'd settle down when your head stopped spinning,

when you were sure you were ready to stop running.

 

and i told you time and time again that it was okay

not to be okay

and it was alright if your bed was on the floor

as long as your heart was in my hands

 

i liked it

i liked you more.

 

i could hold your hand while i laid next to my heart. right next to the cracked hardwood floor that claimed to never break

in fine print

right on the label.

 

all promises are broken in due time.

 

the only guarantee is that

it will rain all day,

the night after you felt all dried up

 

you are messy and not quite put together and it's alright because i've got pieces missing too. and there is an entire language i have to learn before i can tell you what it feels like when i lose you to what you can't control.

 

and if you walk across my floor barefoot you can feel yourself slipping through the space between the boards.

 

i keep dyeing my hair and

i wish i could say it meant something poetic and beautiful but

i just like feeling new

 

maybe if i am darker you will feel lighter and you won't have to bolt your bed down to the floor to feel like you won't float away on me

again

 

show me where it hurts the most

so i can settle down

and keep the tide from rolling in