Look, at the end of the day.
I’m just simply horrified,
That my married friends think it impressive,
That a woman sleeps with her husband 4x a week.
I’m too young to think that old.

You came up to Tahoe for the weekend.
I’m not sure I’ve ever met someone as nice and thoughtful as you.
I’ve never felt so cared for.
It made me feel overwhelmed.
Uncomfortable even.
How cared for I felt.
It made me want to push away.

Everything I want.
But I’m squirming in your affection.

I realize I wouldn’t squirm if you pulled away.
If you back burnered me.
If you acted like you didn’t care.

I would instead run towards you.
Trying to be wanted.
To win your affection.

I won and I don’t know how to accept it.
I don’t know how to hold you.
To accept the love I keep trying to earn.

I put a hoodie on when I’m high.

I have a hoodie on.
And I’m thinking about you.

I saw you in LA.
You were just as lovely as I remember.
Our week together wasn’t a lucid dream.

You brought flowers to dinner for me and Cait.
You paid for dinner.
You cuddled me through the night.

I don’t understand how you can be this nice.
What’s the catch?

We kissed to ring in the new year.
You are one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.
You brought me breakfast in bed.
I’m scared that you don’t mean the things you say.
I’m not sure if it’s my intuition talking or self-preservation because if I believed what you said.
God if 50% of it was real.
I’d be in way too deep.

He told me he had this insecure moment.
Where with everyone else he had gone out with if he thought about the idea of getting serious he believed he’d enhance their life, make it better.

And with me, it was the first time he felt like I would be better off without him. That I could find someone better than him.

I told him he shouldn’t discount himself like that.

He said -

“You don’t understand - you have seen the best of me tonight. I don’t think I’ve seen the best of you.”

But I think he’s wrong.
I don’t think I’ve seen the best in him.

I didn’t get it before.
After you -
The sad love song was no longer dramatic.
The broken poet’s words finally made sense.
The things I thought I was immune
Pierced my skin without warning or a fight.
My armor was no match for the blade of heartbreak.