4.4.19

what you taught me

When I met you I was fifteen
I was young 
And the world hadn’t made a home in the darkest parts of me yet
You were young too 
Enraptured by the shiny new toy that was my heart

 
You looked at me like I was a museum
your nose pressed up against the glass
And I put every facet of my soul on display, just for you
You were the last person I ever did that for

 
You taught me that everyone will leave me and it has nothing to do with my worth
And the brightest people will eventually shine so bright that they bleach the color from your life 
And even though the idea of us remains frozen in the summers of our youth
I will always remember what you taught me

 
When I met you I was seventeen 
I was naïve 
and thought I knew who I was 
You were jaded
but never assumed you knew who I was 

 
You never cared much for what other people thought 
And I craved that 
I had spent so long resenting others that I began to hide from them 
And you found me 

 
You taught me that there will always be people who will welcome me into their lives
Not because of what I’ve done, but because of who I am 
And even though you left in the chill of October, taking a bit of me and the promises you broke
I will always remember what you taught me 

 
When I met you I was eighteen 
I was lost 
And perpetually terrified of what was before me 
You were safe 
And had a head full of dreams and eyes that saw me; really saw me

 
You studied me like I was school 
And you needed to know everything that was going to be on the test of how to love me 
I didn’t know how to love myself 
So you did it for me 

 
You taught me that I deserve to be loved, and you loved me so hard
but instead of coal turning to diamond, I was sandstone that turned to dust 
And even though I left in the heat of August, breaking you and not telling you why 
I will always remember what you taught me 

 
When I met you I was seventeen, 
Though I really met you when I was twenty-one
When we ventured into the neighboring town as friends 
And returned as something else; never quite sure what that something was 

 
I was broken 
And so were you 
We took our scattered puzzle pieces and tried to make sense of them 
Combining them to form the edges, but never quite figuring out how they fit in the middle
 

You taught me that things don’t really have to make sense to be right 
Because we never made much sense, but your arms always felt right 
And even though we left each other in the bitterness of January, neither of us wanting to
I will always remember what you taught me