Don’t dress it up. Don’t call it holy.
It’s not a soft place to land,
not a quiet church for your wounds.
It’s teeth, bared and gnashing—
a hunger so deep it swallows you
Don’t look at me with your soft eyes.
And don’t tell me about forever.
Forever is a lie we tell each other
when we’re afraid of being
Because love is not eternal.
It’s destruction. It’s rebirth. It's death.
a sickness you thank for keeping you alive
even as it eats you alive.
Some days, I don’t even like you.
I know that’s ugly. I know.
But it’s true. There are mornings
on the fragile walls of my patience,
when I look at you and feel nothing
but the fact that I will still choose you
You want to know what love is?
It’s breaking yourself open
a thousand times and still coming back.
It’s saying, *Yes. Hurt me again.*
Take what you need and leave me hollow
how not to give you everything.
It’s drowning in your chaos
We build love out of violence.
Every kiss is a battle cry,
every silence a goddamn graveyard.
We bury the softer versions of ourselves.
We dig, we dig, and we fucking claw.
but because our brokenness
fits together like jagged glass.
Maybe I don’t love you cleanly.
Maybe my love isn’t gentle or kind or easy.
staring at every ruined part of you,
*Yes. Again. Again. Again.*