I.
Here is the question I place before you:
how much of my monstrosity can I unearth
in front of you, before you turn away?
Will you hold my hand while my eyes
turn red and my mouth fills with blood?
Will you be the first to offer me a band-aid
without an extra price?
If you hold my hand without hurting me
you will be the first who ever did
If you help me off of my bloody skinned
knees
without pushing me back down
you will be the only to do so
I'm wearing your jersey and
mailing you my hoodie
But I'm still looking for the
catch

II.
While my cousin screams you like me
and amps me up to ask
you sit across the arena typing

Well,

I like you

I don't know what to do 

with my hands around you

I'm getting lost in my delusions 

III.

You smiled and the whole room spun

That is the truth I am afraid to tell you

Understand, I sectioned my heart off like

an orange, and gave it to boys

with kind smiles and cold eyes. Boys

with warm hands but sharp teeth, who

loved like it was their religion and I was the

sacrifice. They covered

my wounds in honey, promised it was medical

grade and I believed them, even as it

dripped from the peanut butter stained jar.

This is what I understand

wounds coated in sugar and

eyes rubbed raw and red

I'm new to this,

salt water and football jerseys.

Hold my hand,

     I'll do my best.