cause when i look at you, i feel all the pieces come into place, i cry nights after nights craving for someone to hug me, someone who wouldn't care if i dived into deep water and never returned, and then there is you, staying up with me while i cry and waiting till my cheeks are stained dry and mumbling turns into little squeaks while i breathe , i dont bother to appreciate, so engrossed with the teenage life i am surviving that i start believing that after all, you are supposed to love me, i am an obligation , but yet, people defy obligations, people shove away obligations, you did not, you stayed, you loved, why would i then ever think i am not good enough? i dont know, maybe there is an unfilled , un-inked notebook inside of me and i dont have the right kind of pen to write over it, but you still hold on to the blank pages, tracing your fingers over the impressions of all that my tries left, who am i to want to leave, who am i to decide, i am yours, literally, truthfully, genetically, even. who am i to deny , who am i to cry , who am i to not provide myself water knowing my lips are chapped dry, who am i to wish to want to die. i love you, respect you, trust you. dont leave me. please, kinda, maybe? mumma. ~s.m