And she knows she probably should have never let herself need you this bad,
But it was so comforting,
She was fragile, and not handled with care by the last hands that grasped her, squeezing her tightly into the confines of his perception of a 'relationship'.
So, she arrived to you misshapen and in pieces, molded to his ways to the point where she no longer resembled the photo on the box - that was merely what used to be.
But you didn't care about the physical appearance, and you saw her as she was underneath his grooming and lies, underneath her trembling skin,
And you saw her mind as it was before it went to war with itself.
She saw herself as a nuisance, a dust-collector on the shelf that is life; trained to believe that she was destined to do nothing correct, and that for her to smile meant that she was up to no good.
But you fixed her.
Soon, she began to believe that she could have hobbies and friends, and that her love of cosmetics did not label her as 'just a whore,' but as beautiful in her own, self-expressed, way. She began to tremble less at the thought of partaking in social interaction, as you showed her that it is a part of life, and no suspicion should arise from a friendly, "hello," in the street.
But still, ghosts haunted her memory and lingered over her every day, telling her she wasn't worth it, making her feel dirty, remembering the 3am phone calls she'd receive when he just wanted to make sure she knew she wasn't good enough.
She could feel the dust beginning to recollect.
But you always picked her up, dusted her off, and placed her as your centerpiece, because to you, she was so much more than an ornament meant to waste away in the confines of the dark corner shelf he had placed her.
To you, she had purpose, and you wanted the whole world to see her shine.
She then bloomed like a flower, you her sun. She was queen of the world, or at least her world, and you her king. In a world full of ash and rubble, you are her diamond ring.
When she contemplates the future, you never leave her side. And when confronted with the “what if?”s that may leave her without you, she feels empty inside.
So she sits with her mind, and a pen in hand,
And she knows she probably should have never let herself need you this bad,
But it’s so comforting.
