Before you pride yourself on being so hard
for me get over, remember that you broke the heart of a girl
who: falls in love with
sticks and leaves, and keeps her favorites
in the backseat of her car. 
cries at crimson sunsets. 
tiptoes around insects on the 
sidewalk. 
feels too much and not enough. 
sees beauty in everyone 
but herself. 
does not understand the concept of loving
halfheartedly. 
jumps in puddles and digs 
her toes in the mud.
lies in the middle of the street at night
just to feel her heart race. 
was never taught how to 
put herself first. 

You broke the heart of a girl with emotions like
rain drops in a torrent, 
an ingenuous heart that still hasn’t learned 
that hardening is much safer. 
A girl reckless enough to tear open 
the stitches, to risk bleeding out
to love you. 
You sawed through the tissues
that never had time to congeal. 

You’re hard to get over because
I opened my wounds for you, and 
every time I pick my scabs, they take 
a little longer to heal; they leave
a deeper scar.