My love is a gas station pit stop you pause at to grab snacks and then carry on your way. It is a soft place to land when you need to rest for a while and to gather strength, then keep going when you feel strong again. It never looks like ‘I could be with this girl forever ‘ but rather looks like a passing moment of months. I’m comfortable, I’m easy, I don’t demand dates and lavish luxuries, I am more content just watching movies at home and making love by the dim light of the moon. I do not pester you with questions about your whereabouts and I don’t ever talk about feelings as I don’t care to invest any of my own. I love from a distance and that is how I like it; perhaps that is why I am the girl for the wanderer. When you tell me about the new girl you met and how you feel like it’s going to be a real thing, I am genuinely happy for your finding of love; I can’t help but wonder why I am not worthy of that affection, not because I want it from you but I want to feel the rush that makes me whole body vibrate and my spirit dance. Calculated cold and logical with a twinge of deep and feeling I am too wise to love with attachment. Some days I wish I could let myself go just to feel to sting of heartbreak but I know I am not strong to recover from another shattered heart; for my heart is already broken in ways you are too self absorbed to even notice nor care. I love the broken and the messy and perhaps that is why they take refuge with me, as I am broken and messy too, I am just better at hiding it. Or maybe I am just meant to love, to love as many people as I can and that’s what I’m going to ******* do.