I remember when I told you how much I missed your kisses when we were apart for almost a month. your response was “You’re so weird”, but you followed it with this look of joy. I couldn’t be mad at such a beautiful face and such a handsome smile. The only thing I could think about afterwards was the way I wanted to describe your kisses to you. they were like a drug, it was like a shot of the smoothest liquor. Everytime we kissed my heart fluttered with joy like it knew I was kissing my soulmate, the only sad part to this story is that I wasn’t your soulmate and that’s why I’m sitting here writing this out now instead of telling you. I wish I was telling you, I wish we were looking at the moon and I was telling you this at the moment, but I’m not because you moved on with your life and I’m still trying to learn how to move on from my future with you.

I remember the day you told me you didn’t want to be with me anymore, but felt like you had to stay because I always begged you to come back. That day I realized I was the only one doing any loving. To you, I was just some stupid girl to **** and smoke up because your life was rough and loving someone must’ve been too much of a burden on your heart. You used me for your own temporary happiness and now I’m wondering how I was so blind to being used for so long? I told you I loved you and you told me to make myself hate you. I gave you my entire heart, and the only thing you ever gave me that’s memorable is the way you kissed me. The way you kissed me, oh my. It was the only time I could actually tell you were feeling me as much as I was feeling you, but were not together anymore and I need to find someone who kisses me that way and means every word they say.

It doesn’t have to be 3 am for me to miss you and it’s not on rainy days that I wish you were cuddling me.

I miss you at 12 pm and on the warmer days because that’s when the sun shines the most, but somehow you made it shine a bit brighter.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the thirteen years I went without a mom because men were worth more than her children. I could never compare to the materialistic things and we both knew that. It was the nights I cried myself to sleep wondering where my mom was and if I even crossed her mind anymore. The days she came around, she’d bring her ***** dollar bills and try to buy my love with money. I swear that was never enough, whoever said money can buy happiness ******* lied.

It’s not that I don’t love you, it’s just that I’m my fathers twin and he still forced a blood test on my mom. I guess he didn’t want it to be real that bad. It was all the times I had to reach out for him to even notice my existence, what a dead beat. He tried to tell me he loved me, but I’m 17 now and he doesn’t know a thing about me. How can he say he loves me?

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s just that my sister cheated on her husband two weeks after he went to Afghanistan. She blamed it on their “marital problem” but he left trying to make a better life for his family. It made me sick the way she pretended to love him for months. She never even apologized for ruining their picture perfect family.

It’s not that I don’t you. It’s just that I’ve watched my best friends break down on my bedroom floor four times now because she doesn’t feel like she’s enough to be loved. She met a boy who kept her a secret for eight months because he had a girlfriend and it seems like she’ll never get past it. I guess you hold onto the bad things forever.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time my counselor started crying as I told her about my first heart break because she knew that feeling. Her and her husband were on a break and she was struggling to take care of her two children by herself. I’m pretty sure that day I became the counselor for two hours. She told me I had the most beautiful soul and anyone would to be lucky to have me, I found that rather hard to believe.

What I’m trying to say is… It’s not that I don’t love you, it’s that I do.

Don't tell me you love me
because it feels necessary,
or because it's what people do.
Tell me you love me
because it's what you feel,
or because it's a secret you've
buried for too long.
Don't tell me you love me
because you feel some pity for me,
or because it's the right thing.
Tell me you love me
because it's real and you believe
I deserve to know everything your
heart holds for me.