"I'm sick"
I whispered into the blue cotton fabric of his shirt
I pushed my face flush against his chest hoping the heat from my cheeks will make me melt into his skin so I can sit in his heart
"I'm sick and I don't know if I want to get better" I sob
He's stalk still not even putting his large warm hand on the lower base of my spine
I don't know what to do I don't know what to do I don't know what to do
I want him to make me better
He wants me to get better
Or at least that's what I tell myself
I tell myself that he doesn't love how fragile I am
That he doesn't see me as broken
That he doesn't see me as his purpose
I tell myself that he loves me for my flaws and perfections and not just the broken pieces
But as I soak his shirt in my wails I pretend not feel him recoiling like I've got some disease he's afraid of catching
Let me pretend
Let me pretend you actually love me