(Do you ever have that moment when you are overwhelmed with feelings and you begin writing and you come up with something so raw, and editing it and putting those fancy metaphors and big words would make it lose its meaning? This is that moment for me)

He jumps in the ice-cold water
with you cradled in his arms,
your laughter echoes in
the silent streets as
you walk back to his house dripping wet.
You two tiptoe around the house,
he gets a shirt for you to change into
and grabs the car keys. It’s 3:30 AM
and he’s driving you back to your apartment,
you’re talking about your past to keep him awake,
or maybe to push him away,
and he says you are worth so much
more than you’ve been through.

He drives straight after his class to you
so you can rant and cry over the guy
who broke your heart,
you do this again and again
yet he never complains.
He takes you on dates –
dinner and movie and
you swear he is just your best friend.
He tells you, you deserve more,
and scolds you because he doesn’t
want to see your tears anymore.
But you never listen.

He is your constant in parties,
the protective hand around your waist
when strangers are lustful and
unrestrained, sometimes both,
your ride home no matter how late and
early he has to wake up the next day.
On the eve of your birthday,
he drives you all the way
to your real home, not your apartment,
but the one that is miles away from his.
He kisses your cheek goodbye
and you tell him to go before
your grandmother sees him,
completely forgetting to thank him.

He invites you to dinner
but you turn him down
and chooses to drink
with guys you just met instead.
You are drunk and
he picks you up
and you’re screaming
he doesn’t have the right
to take care of you.
He doesn’t leave until
you stumble in his car,
and tucks you safe in your bed.
You remember nothing when
you wake up the next day.

His messages, his worry,
everything about him
suffocates you so you made
sure he hears the slamming doors.
The longest you decide to ignore him,
he comes begging to talk,
to ask what he did wrong.
You see in him a reflection of yourself
when you were in that same position,
begging for something that the
other was too selfish to give,
and you hate him even more for that.
But he doesn’t give up on you
or on your storms, your concrete walls.

You are given a way out
countless of times,
another shot on love
over and over again,
but you’re selfish and
an idiot –

It’s pointless. They are not him,
you whisper.



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