You had me there for a second. Had me believing. Wanting. Aching. And then....breaking. You had me like no boy has before. You held more then my thrusting hips, my lustful lips, my hand wrapped in yours like you were scared I'd diss...appear.
'What more, what more is there?' - you cry
Well foolish boy, don't act so surprised.
Didn't they ever tell you in your Sunday school teachings, that the seeds you sow grow and grow, when you water them?
Maybe you missed that day since you saw no crime in taking your sweet time to plant your love deep inside my soul and you fed that garden come sunshine or cold. But come season for reaping, you were nowhere to be seen. You fled when you saw the beautiful monster that flourished. You only wanted a garden and could not handle my forest. But enough about you leaving, let's talk about loving. Ah.
That is all we want to hear about isn't it?
The ones that made it. The fairytale endings. The moments you searched for hidden cameras 'cause reality was too, too perfect. You always said perfect like something bitter on your tongue. Like you weren't deservèd of it, your excuse being we're too young. But you said my name like it was your favourite song and each night you cursed the days for being so long,
dismal and futile when lacking my presence. You fought battles with my insecurities and made best friends with my hopes.
You said, 'we got this, let's go'
And boy did I go. But your hands grew slippery, your lungs too weak. You could not keep up, but I'm not one for defeat.
Please know that I kept going, long after you let go. Please know that I kept growing, long after the cruel winter snow.
Please know that I love you,
but this is not a love poem.