I am terrified of loving you; for me it is a reflex, for you it is a chore.
telling you I love you is more instinctive for me than breathing is, but you always seem to choke up on those three simple words.
and i will continue to let you to lie to me until your words reflect off of my skin instead of tearing it open.
I think it's because I've always had a thing for destruction and looking into your eyes felt a lot like staring into blinding headlights;
I could hear you shouting at me to step back but if kissing you meant death, nobody would never hear my heart beat again.
and maybe that's why it's so hard for you to love me.
I find at times your presence weakens and your voice becomes a nonexistent echo in the depth of my mind. and when you tell me you love me, it sounds like you're waiting for an apology.
so I'm sorry for keeping you here for so long; I can't bring myself to think about the moment you will leave.
you ignited a spark of electricity that pumped through my veins when you touched me and without you here my body is becoming numb from frostbite.
and next time you tell me you love me, I hope to god it doesn't sound like a goodbye.