Stooped

but would this all be different if you could understand?
I think about seeing you face to face
and it makes all the wormy caterpillars in my stomach
turn into countless butterflies
when I think about how
I did not grow into something beautiful in my time
and there were stones in beds
and pictures around the frames of mirrors
I loved seeing your reflection
while always hating my own
hanging there
whether I still am, I am here
and if I could do it all over again
I would hand you back your insides
that I scraped and scooped out
held
in unsteady hands
still
just like a lantern
on a front porch
that I never stood a chance on