I wasn’t ready to love you when I met you. There’s nothing you could’ve said, or anything you could’ve done. You gave me time to decide, time to open my arms but I didn’t, because I couldn’t. Our love was lost, our chance was missed. If timing is everything, then time worked against us, and too often I look at the door and hope you’ll walk in, so we can meet again.
I’m everything you want, even everything you need. We fit into each others lives, into each others arm’s, into the empty space of our bed’s. How can you not want something, so fairytale meant to be? How can you not want you guys are perfect, smiles? How can you not want me?
I’m not the girl you fall in love with. I’m not the girl who gets flowers to her door. We’re not perfection, but I can promise we’re worth the fight. I can promise a future of certainty, not searching, because to me, we make so much sense. It’s a shame love doesn’t.
It’ll be amazing. You’ll talk about the past. The love loss, the love found. You’ll laugh about the times you stayed out past curfew and the times you outran the cops. You’ll recognize the words that made you weak and the smile that was instant comfort. The doodles left in your yearbook and the pictures you couldn’t delete. You’ll remember the first date, first kiss, first fight.
You’ll remember the last date, last kiss, last fight. The fight you couldn’t overcome. The words you just couldn’t forgive. The happily ever after, you couldn’t wait to escape. You’ll remember why it didn’t work and with that you’ll understand why it never will. You’ll convince yourself you can love them again and again, but one day you’ll learn, love is never the same love, the second time around.
It’ll be a simple, straight forward text, what’s up?
My thumb will hover over letters on the keyboard, aching to tell you about my insecurities, my deepest fears. I’ll backspace the lines I wrote, flustered about the things that kept me up at night. I wish I could respond, filling your phone with my failed childhood dreams and my too ambitious goals. I wish I could tell you about the music I play on repeat, the poetry I recite in my mind, the things that make me cry, every time I watch the news.
Instead, our conversations are full of empty words.There’s beauty in silence I wish we could find, but for now, silence means forgotten so I’ll wait for your texts. My stomach will toss and will turn. I’ll take a deep breath and respond, not much, you?
Don’t fall in love. You’ll analyze every word they say and the speed in which they text. You’ll stay up late wondering where they are and you’ll go to sleep crying, the night’s they’re not by your side. You’ll let your stomach knot, when you feel them drift away and you’ll let your idea of love, stand in your way of loving.
For the definition of love has mislead us to think, if it’s not dancing in the rain, it’s not love at all. So we wait for the letters, and the Cinderella proposals. We wait, and we wait, and we cry.
So, don’t fall in love with the wrong person, for the right one will never make you wait. Never make you wonder. Life isn’t about someone, it’s about the right one. It’s about silence that feels right, and love that feels easy. It’s about nights alone, knowing they’ll be back and once they’re back, it’s knowing they’ll stay.
I’ll start to fill with hopeless emotions, making breakfast in the comfort of your big, flannel shirt. I’ll show up with a naked face and send careless texts of the pizza I ate for lunch.
I’ll take steps towards you with clouds beneath my feet.
To be with a girl that’s comfortable is to be standing at the edge of a cliff, having the power to push her off with the mere air in your words. Some guys will let her climb down while the ones free of guilt will push her, with no intention of being at the bottom.
And so, you’ll leave, because you can’t stand breaking my heart like the ones who stay.
We met by mistake. Just a passing conversation after a night at the bar. I resisted the walk home, the drunken conversation seeping with confessions, the sincerity in your voice as you asked, will I see you again? I eventually gave in, unaware of my misstep into the rabbit hole, mistaking attention for affection.
It didn’t take long for things to play out and you to back out.
Our relationship became toxic and played out as comfortable repetition. We started to mindlessly speak. We spat empty threats and clenched angry fists is the most frustrating arguments. With you came a sense of desperation. It started with me screaming my bottled up feelings and it ended with you, and your dumbfound look. I refused to walk away without a goodbye. Without telling you about the chaos in my mind. Without convincing you my insanity went away when you did. You never gave me the chance. You never let me speak. You taught me the unsettling truth that we can’t get closure. We must live with our words left unsaid.
It’s the kind of pain we didn’t know love had to offer. The kind of love we hate to admit, for the times we saw the destruction, when the pain wasn’t worth the reward, we didn’t put the fire out. Instead, we watched it burn to ashes in a regretful fall out.
When the fall out happened and bitter resentment was strong, your jokes were at me, not to me. You didn’t pick up when I called. You brushed off my problems, my pleas, my maybe I was wrong. I live to wonder if you were worth settling for, but without you I’ll never know. Without you I can’t help but think, the burn from the flame was better then the ashes of us.
I’m sorry you got caught in the wrath of a troubled, self-destructive girl. I’m sorry you were the one to grab my hand, just as I was falling off the edge. You marked my insecurities and took advantage of my unhealthy habits. You knew how I cringed at the whisper of a compliment. I lost comfort when your hands reached for mine and I surrendered my ability to defend myself, time after time. You used my moments of weakness against me. Insisting I was the reason we would never work. It’s a relief you’re behind me. I know I didn’t lose my prince charming. In our fairytale, you were the Jester and I was simply the joke.
Heartbreak is the sorrow of a lonely bird. The crumbling of an expired cake. The nostalgia of a top 40 song. It’s the chilling feeling that you’re doing everything wrong. That this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. It’s the disbelief, the regret, the wish for once more chance. But how many times can you let the same person defeat you? You sacrifice your self-worth because you settle, and you accept. You continue to look his way. You disregard the eyes of affection, the genuine people who come up, the ones who can rewrite your pain. They’re begging for your time and attention like you’re begging for his.