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

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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

Be.

 

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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