How long has it been since someone touched a part of you other than your body?

I get awefully sad, knowing your poems are not about me.

I used to think I wanted to be a poet, but in reality, deep down, I craved to be someone's poem.

Can you see me? All of me? Probably not, no one ever really has.

In order to understand, I destroyed myself.

You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.