WHAT I’M REALLY TRYING TO SAY IS THAT I HOPE YOU STILL THINK I’M WORTH IT

you don’t like when i’m sad and so
we are both dancing
pretending there aren’t thorns in our feet.

& it’s been this way since,
blood soaked socks covered by shoes and
both of us continuing to twirl,
pretending it does not matter,
pretending our soles are clean.

when you leave i hope
you take a washing machine with you,
i hope your shoes are still white, i hope
you pull the thorns out,
i hope
you believe
the beauty of the rose
is still worth it.