The thing is, I can't love you the way you deserve to be loved.
Mine is the same love that my father had, the kind of love that leaves a wreckage in its wake. It's the kind of love that will make you heady at first; breathless kisses stolen in the dark, fervent touches and praises shared under the covers. It's wild and passionate and it'll leave you wanting more.
I'll cut you open and bare myself to you in turn, I'll ask about your dreams and desires and then tell you about my goals and ambitions. I'll kiss each of your moles and let you trace the scars on my back. I'll remember your birthday, your favorite song, how you can't sleep with the lights on. I'll let you love me and I'll let you think I love you. And then I'll be gone.
Messages will be left on read and calls will go unanswered and you will wonder about what went wrong, where did you go wrong. You will wonder whether the love was really there or not, was I really there or not. You'll lose sleep pondering over these questions, waiting for my name to appear on your notifications.
And I can't let that happen, I won't let my love ruin you. Because you see, mine is the same love that my father had, the kind of love that leaves a wreckage in its wake. It's the kind of love that leaves my mother in tears, our family in tatters. And you deserve better than that. You deserve better than me.
