i have never known love in the way that you love me. it’s not healthy i know, but i am holding my breath waiting for the other shoe to drop. waiting for the broken glass shattered at the foot of my bed and the sleepless nights where your silence rips at my soul more than any words that could ever spill from your mouth. I’m waiting for the conversation that always inevitably comes, the “you’re too much,” or “not enough” conversation, the one where you tell me i’m not trying hard enough or i’m trying too much. i’m waiting for the days when i’m too clumsy and probably too awkward because it’s always followed by the sound of us yelling, you yelling, him yelling i mean. i’m waiting for the empty mornings and the mind numbing nights that are never met with an “i love you” as if it were a feeling you’d left at the front door before you came in, or before you were leaving and while we’re on the subject, i’m waiting for that too. you leaving i mean. No one ever sticks around to play with a broken toy and how am i supposed to convince myself that you’re any different. except you are, different i mean. And i know all of the things i’m waiting for, terrified for, may never come and my god do i love you so naively as if it’s the first time id ever fallen in love. until i’m reminded that it’s unfortunately not the first time and i find myself once again, breath caught in my throat, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
