The first time I realized I loved him butterflies clouded my stomach and I felt completed, like the last puzzle piece in a thousand picture word. I gave you the pieces, wrapped in lilac so you never would bleed for me. I gave you the parts of myself that I loved, my curiosity, my bravery, and my need to love all.
The first time I realized I loved him butterflies clouded my stomach and I felt completed, like the last puzzle piece in a thousand picture word. I gave you the pieces, wrapped in lilac so you never would bleed for me. I gave you the parts of myself th... do you hear the sound of glass breaking? stories
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thomas
thomas justlovingtheworld
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
I showed you all and you took what you wanted. I guess that’s on me.

The first time I realized I loved him butterflies clouded my stomach and I felt completed, like the last puzzle piece in a thousand picture word. I gave you the pieces, wrapped in lilac so you never would bleed for me. I gave you the parts of myself that I loved, my curiosity, my bravery, and my need to love all.

I showed you the hard cracks that told you of a world of drunken breathes and heavy steps. I told you I hated noise. I told you when you get mad, I get scared. I told you that after all these years, I still feel him. I told you and you still threw your phone and punched the wall, and I saw the dust swim in the air, and I flinched even though you were no where near me.

He tells me he loves my opinions and then says I’m too loud. He says he wants my forever and ever, but says he doesn’t want to see me all the time. I showed you the worst because you loved my best, and then you didn’t like what you saw.

The first time I realized I hated him, anger filled me, made a pool in my stomach that drowned the butterflies. I painted lines on my face to make it seem like the age was just excitement of a faded smile.

I hate him. I hate him with everything I have. I hate that I gave him my pieces just for him to break them to complete himself. I hate that lying is his second language. I hate him because his name is a taste on my tongue that my brain can’t forget.

I hate him because if I didn’t, I don’t know what I would be. I hate him because his love is like an ocean that splashes me in the face every time. A burning building and people see the ashes, but they don’t feel the heat or suffocate on the smoke that fills their lungs every time I cough out “it’s okay. I forgive you.”

I hate because he knows I will bleed for him, I hate that he knows my weaknesses and exploits them. I hate this heart that won’t let him go. I hate this mind that only remembers him. I hate this body because everywhere I look, he is. His words, his jeweled compliments, his kisses that followed his soft whispers that promised me a life with hope

I hate him because I can’t allow another person to victimize me. I hate him because I love him. I hate him, not because it’s all I have. Not because I’m scared or vulnerable. Not because he doesn’t care or will never listen. I hate him because I don’t, not even a little, but once I admit that, I only have myself to blame. And I don’t know where to go after that.

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