I am in love And I fight love like a war I wasn't trained for.
In the simplest terms: Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting they won't.
But how can I trust him not to destroy me when I have become a mosaic: picking up my broken pieces, again and again, only to arrange them into something more beautiful than I was to begin with.
I guess this is why I trust him... Even if he were to destroy me I'd have more broken glass to use for the masterpiece that I've been creating for years.
I wonder if this is all in my head... I'm no longer an enigma but a work of art, and an artist's work is never complete.
I suppose I await the day when he picks me up and throws me to the floor.
I swore I heard him say he didn't love me the same way I love him and I felt a piece fall and shatter.
I must wait to add that piece back in with the others when I collect the remnants of who I was before him.