Everything is out there. That's why they call it everything.
I am standing like shoe polish on an overstocked shelf hoping that one day someone will pick me to make things better.
You are the home I point to that lives in my chest.
Hearts don't break, y'all. They bruise and get better.
Make love to me like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did.
Even good hearts know how to turn bad touch and genocide into clichés just to make room for more comfort.