promise

i still think you have pretty lips, perfect ones,
promise, they’re shaped like
cupid’s bows mountains and valleys waves on a lake roses
and i don’t know why nobody wants to kiss them
trust me, nobody is kissing mine either, we have that in common
but the cuts moved from my arms to my hips and
promise, i never told anyone about yours
so i guess they still line your wrists like tally marks
counting every day you stay alive
and sometimes when i’m talking the god
i don’t believe in, i ask him to let you sleep instead
of me because

God, I never promised to save you.