Flower Girls At Lost Weddings

Sometimes I wish

I didn’t fall in love with broken boys.

I always see the signs,

they wear their hearts on their sleeves

like battle scars

and I ignore all the red flags

like when they outright say,

“I’m a bad person”.

and I tell them, no.

I console, I hug.

because I’m always trying to help,

not thinking about myself.

Sometimes I wish

the broken boys would love me back.

Lie to my face with sickly sweet nothings,

whisper “I love you’s” into my skin, 

so if I squint hard enough

the hickey’s look like hearts,

slowly fading memories as I stand in the mirror.

Sometimes I wish

these broken boys would understand

my heart’s already broken

so they don’t need to fix it,

just need to lie enough that the tape holds.