Today someone asked
‘Did she love you’.
Because my love for her was stolen
A brush of hands, of fingers tangled together but always in the dark
A press of lips to her collarbones, her cheeks, her neck but never her lips
It was bruised shoulders and bruised egos,
Lost declarations and lost promises.
It was the words I whispered in her ear while my hands danced across her ribs
Or the words requested in the deep of the night when sleep was to far and nightmares not far enough.
It was second glances and curious friends
And stretches of silence and hushed arguments in the vacant corners of rooms.
She stole my “I love you"s and stitched them into her skin like armor.
And then she wore her armor to kiss other girls in the dark and to press promises into their skin,
To hold them the way I held her,
To love them the way I thought I’d loved her.
I thought I could protect myself from the pain,
But when I looked, I’d found that I’d given all my armor away.
Today someone asked
‘Did she love you’