I fall in love with the wrong people.
With the guy with a girlfriend,
with the guy that abused me,
with the guy who raped me.
I fall in love with men I shouldn't
Because they all listened,
they all made me smile.
They all talked to me like I was special.
They all had "something about them"
because of the way they all looked at me.
Love stories are tragic.
Unjust external force always tears us apart;
our families, timing, school or a bullshit excuse.
Nobody talks about a lover giving up
because "I don't love you anymore"
cuts deeper.
The wound of fate no longer leaves you bleeding out
and longing.
Those words slit new veins open from the inside,
fills your lungs, bursts your ego.
Choke on the rejection, die drowning in the loneliness.
Wonder how you'll live without him,
wonder what you could have done.
The blame is on you.
Leaving a lover for your own self being
hurts even worse.
This is the difference between melancholic aching
and soul-shattering, identity questioning
heartbreak.
So don't tell me "I saw it coming"
when the next guy I love
manipulates me or cheats.
I already know.
I choose to fall in love with men
who will destroy themselves,
or be taken but never leave.