Words escape your mouth and hide underneath my skin; their jagged edges coloring my sweat the most beautiful red.
I lie in bed, avoiding both our truths. You’re an abuser and I seek to understand your hurt too.
Love can heal but that’s something we both must choose.
Just saying “I love you” is enough for a few but there was never enough ‘brave’ between us two.
Like sandcastles we crumbled.
Like cookie crumbs on the floor, both sweet and broken; swept away until even the taste was soaked in salt.
The potential of you was my cross to bear; one I couldn’t ask to share. It could never be your fault if you remained unaware of the man I created in my blank stares.
You were just a notion, a thought preconceived.
I laid you to rest in the mess of my mind.
Buried you deep because I thought it was kinder to erase you rather than embrace you, rather than love you more, rather than love me less, rather than hate me some, rather than hate you still but somehow less.
Rather than choose you over me.
Rather than buy into your trauma at the expense of my own. I wouldn’t burden you with the same kindness I was too afraid to be shown.