i am in love with a man who simply
cannot love me half as much as he says.
otherwise, he wouldn't be able to rip me into little pieces,
slowly and little by little.
the good times,
the boy in him i fell in love with,
who rarely peeks behind
the "man" he's become
are just the strips of tape holding all of me together.
what happens when it runs out?
i'll be left scrambling to pick up all the pieces
blowing away in the wind in his trail
as he leaves.
i'll be left to tape them all together by myself
with the energy and love
i wouldn't have left.
and because of that,
because of him,
they'll never fit the same again.
my life has been full of him.
8 years.
what do you do
with everything that's leftover?
with all the stuff he'd leave in my vacated heart?
memories.
inside jokes.
laughter.
late nights.
gentle touches,
imprints of fingertips on wanting flesh.
the lingering warmth of kisses.
"i love you."
over
and over
and over
i'd keep replaying the sound his voice makes
when those three words come out of his mouth.
the town i've lived in for years
no longer home, but
the tragic remains of a place
that once held our love story.
restaurants,
movie theaters,
bowling alleys,
arcades,
parks,
cars,
streets
no longer,
just torturous reminders
of him and i.
nowhere to look
without seeing his smile
or hearing his laughter.
these memories will never leave,
and they'll never fade.
and i'd just rip apart all over again.
knowing he'd be out there somewhere.
without me.
without us.
and i'll wonder,
how his new world looks in his eyes.
is it bright and safe?
is it quiet and comfortable?
is it better?
i think
the painful answer
would be yes.
because otherwise,
he'd love me the way he says.
he wouldn't keep tearing me apart.
he wouldn't be able to live without me
as i'm unable to live without him.
i imagine him,
in a perfect world,
while i'd tremble in it's upside down,
waiting until i could see the sun again.
and i don't think i would.