You hate it.
The slow tearing of your heart,
But you need it.
You need it to survive the day.
Because if you lose it,
You know that it is over.
The dream is gone.
The dream that someday he will leave her,
Leave her to enter your embrace;
To put his tender lips upon yours in a way so gentle that only he would Understand.
You want him to hold your hand
And whisper into your ear that he loves you more than himself,
And that he would jump in front of a freight train to make sure you Were okay.
You Can't bare the thought of the picture he has painted,
Yet you're flattered.
Then you realize that it won't ever happen.
Now you can picture it,
See his hot breath pass your cheek to your jaw line.
Then to your lips,
That's when you feel it the most.
The slow tearing of your heart.
Your center,
Your everything.
Then you see him pass
And your heart stops
Only to recollect itself when he leaves.
It only gets worse.