I always thought I knew what it was like to be in love. I thought being in love meant taking the blame when we got in an argument. I thought being in love meant making him happy even when I felt completely shattered on the inside. I thought being in love meant listening to his every command just to make sure I didn't disappoint him. I thought being in love meant staying behind because I knew he didn't want to worry about me. I thought being in love meant hurting myself to make sure he was okay. I thought being in love was getting so frustrated with him that I couldn't hold in my tears. I thought being in love meant watching him walk out the door and sitting cross legged on the floor waiting for him to come back. I thought being in love meant changing myself in order to be perfect for him. I thought being in love meant carrying the weight of both my world and his on my shoulders to make sure he could stand up straight. I thought being in love meant loving him with every ounce of my being, even though he didn't really love me at all.
I wish I knew what it was like to be in love.


B.S.

The Roses he bought me were as red as her hair,
and brought just the same despair.
The Roses he bought me were as soft as her lips,
The petals contained the curve of her hips.
The Roses he bought me smelled of her perfume,
like the covers in my bedroom.
The Roses he bought me pricked my fingers,

As she my heart, but she still lingers.