Something I wrote when I was 12

Have you ever noticed how perfect eyelashes looked when they're wet? Or when the silence is so loud you could hear the blood running through your veins if you tried? When I look at you, all I see are flowers surrounding every bone and artery that makeup your ribcage. I can see your heart before your skin and the smile that says your heart is home to anyone who needs shelter. When a boy who called you home takes a lighter and burns every petal one by one and you’re trying to put it out with every saltwater tear that falls onto your kitchen floor, I want to draw a map to the nearest ocean on your forearms. You will know that your skin isn't an escape route for pain. I will say take my hand before you take a break from life. When the deafening silence takes over and you feel alone and hurt in your heart is more than something that can be minimized by small pools coming from wide and lost eyes, I will use the map on your forearms to drive you to the nearest ocean. Instead of feeling like a home, you can feel at home. You will be your own shelter and of course it will still hurt. The tears will still come and go from time to time, but every time they do, I will be here. I will learn how to garden so maybe I can revive the dead flowers that were once filled with nothing but life. This type of hurt cannot be fixed by band aids or poetry, but I can always try.