to love is not about ******* winning me over
it is not the dazzling
the sequins
the show
showcasing to me how great it could be

see that’s where your wrong

to love is bringing me that little coffee
doing the dishes when your tired
having that conversation as your under your truck with me
It’s loving with compassion
and fear
and trying to heal yourself to grow with your partner
it isn’t “winning me over”
so its not another task you need to continue doing

I just wanted you to love me
not at the expense of yourself

I wanted you to love me, not win me over.

I wasn’t something to be ‘won’ anyways.

I might still love you
maybe the thought of me
and you

and the good moments

maybe that’s why it’s so hard

because I haven’t stopped loving all the little moments or the smell of you

i might still love you

cause nothing tastes like that first kiss
and the longer one after that

the trail of clothes, or hat tipped back

maybe, maybe i still do,

but i can’t.

don’t mind if I do
crawl into your lap

seeking the comfort of familiarity
and knowing where the coffee cups are

and the way your sheets feel curled against my legs
and my back against your chest

but
I know we’d mind

so don’t mind me

dad told me

he’s always gonna run.

before you ran the first time.

then the second.

and finally, the third. when you fed me to the wolves because it was easier than facing them yourself.

and I didn’t have thick enough skin for that

something I’ve learnt

and maybe grieved along the way

is striving to be something

is so very different

from wanting to want to be something

that requires you to love

and god just to try

more than you fear

and I watched you close that door

over

and over

before I decided to finally walk away

he got me flowers

just because. or maybe not just because, but because I asked him to.

but he got me the ones I actually liked. and paid attention to the way I smiled.

he got me flowers. and I know he wouldn’t hesitate to set up a reminder,

to get me more

he asked me,

between a half cocked grin, and sip of whiskey —

‘Do you make every man fall in love with you?’

and that negroni —

really never tasted sweeter, against my tongue