To the Girl Who Wants to be a Poem

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 18, 2018

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Submitted: August 18, 2018



You think your body is 

Meant to be metaphor,

Broken into bits

Scattered across pages,

Irresponsible poets play with you.


You look in the mirror

And see your smile as a simile,

Remembering you are only

Like something.

Like beautiful.

Like appreciated.

Like loved.

Stuck wondering what it feels like to



Your lungs are

Relentless repetition.

Each breath

A memory of moments

The sun cannot reach

Darkness calls home. 


You put your hand to your heart

And think the rhythm 

Is the sound of breaking.


Every time I meet you

I want to write you

Into a Band-Aid.

I urge my words to wrap you in warmth

So hot it does not burn

But simply melts all

The lies off your skin.


I pray my voice can carry

Your insecurities

And drop them off a cliff

So you can see how

They hold you down.


I hope my hands

Can move mountains

Of bad memories

And flatten them

Into valleys of value,

Overflowing with worth.


I throw my heart

At you and beg you to 

Stay above water.

Hold on tight.


I want to be the poet that saves you,

But you are not a poem,

And I am not a god.

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