A Museum of my Heart

It's not because you meant nothing to me. It's because I am broken. I have been broken and used over and over again. I am still young at heart and prepared to risk all. I am immature but my heart has seen every season. It's true, I might not have seen this world but I assure you, I have felt it with all my heart. I have tasted love at the tip of my tongue with whiskey on my breath. I have stolen kisses in the corners of dark rooms. I have walked with fingers entwined.

It's not because you meant nothing to me. It's because I have nothing planned ahead of me. Yet I have planned out how I want to feel living my life. As absurd as it may seem, you reality is a non-existent speck of dust in front of my dreams. I look useless, wasting my time. But listen to me once, I dare you. Listen to me and you'll see that a different universe lies inside me. My words will take you around the world and you will sink into my laughter.

It's not because you meant nothing to me. It's because I planned on never giving up. Survival wasn't my greatest trait. It looked good on me, with its scars and bruises, but living was what kept my cheeks flushed. I never intended on leaving a tiny foot note. For me, it was about leaving behind a legacy.

I always ran the risk of being intimate with my brokenness and I kept trying to breathe, till it turned to muscle memory.

It's not because you didn't mean anything to me. It's because there are things you don't know about me. Look at my smile. Pick a magnifying glass and peek inside at thousands of fingerprints on the surface of who I used to be. You would feel exhilarated. Like a little child.

It was never because I didn't love you. It was because I did.

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