i’m sorry that loving me will often feel like fighting in a war. that you will have more battle scars than you can count. that sometimes “i love you” tastes more like surrender than a victory. that mine is the sort of love that breaks bones and captures cities. bites your lip so the taste of rust lingers. a flag. a warning. a measured mark of title. the kind of love you need to recover from. that some days you will reach for me and i will be going, gone, ghost. that some nights i turn myself off with the lights and the bedroom doubles as a battlefield where i am more enemy than ally. that sometimes these hands are made for hurting and not for holding. healing. i should hold you more often. i should. i’m sorry.
all the things i couldn’t say to you in person, by ironedout (via ironedout)











