My concave heart fits the curve of your convex mind
Two glass lenses bent to fit eachother's weaknesses
You curl yourself into me,
I force myself to hold you
we are still made of glass
and we splinter
Shatter
We don't see that we're cracking
'til we're pressed too far into each other
You show me your sharp edges like battle scars
And I hide mine behind blankets
in your bed
so I might still look like the angel that I thought I was
before our fall.
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