You and your reckless abandon made me feel beautiful.
I felt like Christmas lights in October,
still shining bright, still hung.

And one day,
as you held me softly in your arms,
you told me you loved me.

I was the only real "family" you had left.
On account of your father chopping up your mother and all.

Told me you loved me,
the words I've always wanted to hear,
the words I have made my tongue bleed on,
the words I have broken my jaw with trying to keep
them from coming out.

You told me we will never get married.
Told me to get a boyfriend,
and when I shook my head and said I "don't like anyone" ,
you grabbed my hair in your fist and kissed me,
your wet tongue sliding into my warm mouth.

"Ah, little one. But you like me."

I see you like I would see my father,
you see me like a little sister,
like a young girl half your age you can protect,
can kiss on the head,
can hold close.

A girl you can **** from behind, your fingers in my mouth.
A 19 to your 38.

A girl you introduce as "I see her as a little sister"
while you have my scent on your thighs.
A girl you can never marry, but oh god, do you love her.

You told him, with 70 pounds of high grade marijuana on the table: "This is my little girl gone gangster.
I'm leaving for a while but she's holding down my game.
Treat her right and she'll do you the same."

And I will.

In truth, I love to love you and I live to love you.

And I'll take your ***** type of ****** love over not having you.