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you are a broken house with smashed windows
and ivy growing between your fingers

you are fragile and with every

creaking footstep on the stairs you pray so

hard that you have let the right one in

there will be people,

people with minds so blissfully ignorant that

they walk right through you and do not

see the splintered furniture residing within your

body, you are invisible to them,

and sometimes

you wonder if you are even there

but then there are other people -

people worth staying standing for,

people who will walk in and gently run their

fingers along the parts of yourself that

you forgot were even there,

people who will explore your anatomy like

it is an undiscovered world.

let them find the stale cup of water you left

beneath your bed 5 months ago,

let them find the brittle treasures you hide

in your fireplace, and how you masochistically

adore the way that you could just

catch on fire at any

second

but do not let them break you,

not ever again.