He has a constellation of freckles on his face and you’re busying trying to figure out how your name comes into it.
The words he utters puts you out of place, yet you still try to fit yourself in all the spaces he has created.
In the mist of everything. You try teach him how to love you, because you have loved all his imperfections, he was almost nothing without you.
Now you are the one out of place, searching for affection in a shallow space.
You patiently wait for him to break out in a poem and utter sentimental words that make you feel at home.
Because you gave him bits of you, that he didn’t even deserve, now you consume scraps of love that you wouldn’t ( on a normal basis) even accept as a reseve.
You hug him like his hugs will protect you from him. But all it really does is break you. Because, you’re not from a broken home. So there is no way his hugs will fix your childhood.
You are just a fixer, loving everything that is broken. Like pebbles and stones, you collect broken people like tokens.
Their flaws, are the things that you desire. The same things that destroy you.
You tell him you love him, and all those words do, is bounce back, and cut your heart much deeper.
And you begin to believe that he reveals his love like he does his flaws, in secret and the dark, right between the sheets where he is most vulnerable.
So when will it stop?
When you’re too broken that you no longer love yourself?
Or when loves someone else, who evidently doesn’t love him as much as you love him?
Or perhaps when he chases the 100th skirt and actually doesn’t come back?
See, no good comes from loving a person who doesn’t love you back…