Because she thinks the bruises look pretty
against the white of her skin -
She's always been so colourless, lifeless
And she
Misses the gentle /thump/ of her stomach,
As she's falling from three stories high
And it lands,
bang!
a little behind all the rest of her
Pink and black are her favourite colours,
The scars make her smile because
she knows
She's done something good
it's hard to love a broken man, (for anyone else but her),
So she knows it's not his fault
when she's been kicked in the head one too many times
She ran, not because she's afraid, but because he needs
a break
From her prattling voice and incessant questions,
She'll come back, because
She's not afraid of his hands around her neck
Because she doesn't know how to cry ,
Until she's laughed,
Laughed so hard her cracked ribs scream in pain,
So hard that she has to choke out a breath and--
She doesn't know how strong she is, that Lycra and love
aren't the only things holding her together
Because she has reasons no one else understands,
His smile give her butterflies of different kinds,
And she's always been fascinated by danger
Because she can't remember how to apologise,
She still thinks everything's her fault,
And she could never be loved by someone who's a flower