she can remember the scratching
resonance of pencil against paper
as you wrote those three words–

but it rang so hollow
like the steady echo of her heart;
those false decrees are shattering
upon harlequin grass, wet with
the tears she refuses to cry

because she was almost beautiful;
almost worthy;
and she could have been important
but it's still not enough–

and he mars her with beautiful scars
each time his pencil meets paper
with those vacant messages of
'iloveyou' or 'imissyou'
because she knows

she is not enough;
she will never be good enough
no matter what he claims or swears
and she finally realizes this–

and while the stars are falling;
while the stars are crying out her pain
she stares at the darkened sky
with tears trailing down her cheeks
and whispered her goodbyes

'i can't live off of iloveyous anymore'