you became my home. the soft, steady beat of your heart was my lullaby and the valleys between your ribs were my safe spot.
but home has drifted so far that it’s now ocean away.
we are still a broken promise laced with the word “forever,”
I am still reminiscing about the late evenings turning into early mornings.
and you are still spending every day with a smile on your face despite my absence.
our absence, really. the absence of the love that once sustained us, the absence of my fingers in your hair and your cotton candy breath on my neck.
promises like ours do not come in a emerald box with a bow tied tight, our promises come in a wooden chest with a broken hinge. fragile and breakable.
the intricate carvings along its edges have become dull to the eye.
but with a little bit of handiwork, maybe our chest, our promise could have become something like it was supposed to be.
all we had to do was nurture it.
they say one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.
and so I guess you were there for the finished product, and I was there for the hard work. I was there for the hours it would take to fix our box, our promise, our love.
I was there for the hours it would take to fix us.
and all you were interested in was a pretty trophy to sit in the corner of your bedroom,
next to your bed that I won’t be sleeping in with you.
they say one mans’s trash is another man’s treasure.
I suppose that I treasured the shattered pieces of us while you swept them into the garbage.
but I won’t be swept into the garbage. I will not fade, I will not stop trying until I have mended that wooden chest.
I will not be left in the dust anymore,
I am willing to fight for us, because what we have takes my breath away and leaves me with an army of butterflies caught in my stomach.
I am willing to fight.
stormborns
turnnoffyourmind
germansingergirl
tangentwithtanner
titsay
