I know.
How time heals all wounds and
we were never getting married.
I know that in a year from now I cant even care less.
I'm aware.
I didn't even love you yet.
It was too short for that.
I know you're just 4 months in 12.
Of hopefully 80.
And I'm going to be just fine,
even better than with you.
I know all of that.
But now,
right now,
I just wish your body was warming my bed.

You are so beautiful.
Why do you even doubt yourself?
You are filled with love and care.
You comfort your friends and family
while you're fighting your own battles.
You're like a free hotel.
The shelter for every hangover.
You're smart.
No, intelligent.
You have all the right ideas about life,
about how to treat eachother.
You're creative.
Funny.
You're not afraid of spiders and hate putting on make-up.
You're independent.
18 years old in your own house,
a study you are paying yourselve.
You are strong.
3 years of anxiety could not knock you down.
You're openminded.
You see the story behind the deeds.
You're funny and positive.
And you can be insanely happy with a christmastree or a wink.
You can cook and dance and climb.
You can be sober and have the best night.
You're sensitive and compassionate.

You are so beautiful.

Is there some kind of rule for
how many flashbacks
of you saying home
and forgetting the your?

Is there someone to answer
the question of how long
it takes to stop seeing
your clothes on the floor?

Is there any book written
on stages of heartbreak
and how to get over
not being enough?

Is there some sort of method
that makes us immune
for the things that destroy us
when we fall in love?

The greatest feeling in the world
Is the security of knowing
You're not going anywhere
Ever

Since you left this house
Almost two weeks ago
My mind has been in chaos
But my body's been at ease

It seems to me this heartbreak came
With healing skin disease.

We stood in the shower
As I gave you a vow
And as you let me take all the water
You repeated

*I promise
To be faithful and loving
Untill it's empty

To the two year old baby,
trapped in the body of a 31 year old man.
To the young lovers keeping eachothers addiction alive.
To the boy who got kicked out of school at 6,
for being agressive.
To the kitten of my neighbours, throwing up worms.
To the lady in the supermarket, with new shades of blue on her face every week.
To the people in the bar, all escaping something else.
To the ginger girl who was never understood, just diagnosed.

I want to apologise in the name of everybody who did not love you as much as you needed them to.