If my life
Was a pretentious and overly validated
Piece of literature
Written by a skittish play-write
Who most likely used a pen-name
To write things,
Then my life so far
Would be considered a "Tragedy".
As in, everyone either leaves or dies.

It wouldn't be a Tragedy that made sense.
No, it wouldn't be like Hamlet, or Macbeth.
It would be more like Romeo & Juliet.

As in, it all started because two people
Made some dumb choices.
And then bad things happened.
And then everyone involved continued to make dumb choices
And lots of people got hurt.

My life, so far,
Could be considered a very literal
"Series of Unfortunate Events".

I never was very good
At forming relationships with people.
Friendships, bonds, whatever.
I don't know how to make a connection
With people.
And when I do,
I sabotage it.
Because everyone leaves.
So I burn that bridge before they get a chance
To even srtike a match.

I'm not a permanent-kind-of-person.

I never have been.

I've never wanted to be. At least, that's what I tell myself as the bridges collapse into ash and soot and smoldering embers.

... And then, there was you.

You, the kind of person whose rare cheshire grin lights up the whole room,
Even if just for a second.
Even if it was just there on your face for a second.
There was at least a little light,
For at least a second.

You, who refuses to leave my side.
You, who puts up with my inability to comprehend that you love me and you are staying and that I don't have to be afraid. I don't have to burn our very old bridge.

You, with your thoughtful scowl,
And loving hands.
You, who quietly observes the world.
You, who is always there when I need it.
You, who is always there when I want it.

You, who is my everything.

You, who I love.

You, who I have always loved.

Maybe we'll get a happily-ever-after, after all.