this is my fault
why did I give my life
to a boy that can't even remember to
  water his plants
and why did I give him my beauty
when the only thing he has to say about roses
is how
he thinks we ought to chop off all their thorns
instead of admire
how nice their peddles look
and I don't know why
I gave my heart to a boy with
holes in his hands or
why he told me I
made him feel like the sun when
he ran away the second I let it
rain
but what I really want to know is how
   I'm supposed to
breathe when
I left my lungs in the nook of his neck
and I really want to know
how he has the audacity to touch that
other girl
when my blood is still
dripping down his
fingertips like wax
or like tears
or like Christmas lights
I don't know why I
gave him my all but
I know that it's
my fault
and really
the only thing I know is that
all that I want anymore is my life back
  (and will you please come back?)
   ((come back.))