I
think you're lovely
when you're laying
in the grass, your
eyes glistening in
the September Sun.
I think you're wonderful
as blood flows down your
wrists, and you're fighting
against the demons in
your head.
I think you're amazing
when your anger gets
the best of you and you
shut me out, and you try
to push me away—but
we
both know I'm
not going anywhere.
But, to me, you're the most
beautiful when you look me
in the eyes and whisper,
help me, I can't do this
on my own.
And together, we throw
away your blades,
and you put down the
bottle of pills;
choosing to not
let the monsters
in your head win.
(DS)
