If love were enough, I wouldn't be cold while laying here beneath the sheets of the twin bed I've been sleeping in since I was a child. I used to tell myself that one day I wouldn't need to fall asleep to the sound of my mother breaking dishes in the kitchen. If love were enough to my father she wouldn't have had to find herself barefoot on tile floors with ****** hands. If love were enough they wouldn't have needed to pretend that their Sunday mornings were spent renewing the vows they once made to themselves before forgetting what forever feels like. If love were enough they wouldn't be sleeping in different cities every night. I have been trying to find a way to tell you that the cracks in my ribcage have been there long before I met you, broken from the nights I've spent screaming at my father to look into my mother's eyes and save her. Broken from the times I begged them both to plant seeds back into a soil they've stopped harvesting. Broken from the times I thought my existence was a burden they no longer had the patience to deal with. Broken from the times I wished I could be a forever they could sink their fingers into.

...But I told myself that it would be different for me. I told myself that I wouldn't be sleeping alone by the time I turned 18. That love would come to me in the form of someone who would actually make a promise and keep it.  I told myself that If love were enough you would be here tonight. I just turned 18, and all i've learned so far is that love is never enough; I can't remember the last time my hands weren't shaking and I can't remember why your name always tastes sweet on my tongue when I say it. But I can remember you telling me that one day it would be you and me dancing in the kitchen on Friday nights, and I'm wondering if that's before or after I get glass in my feet.