There was a time when I thought you loved me. A time when you could have disrespected me so deeply that it would reach my core and graze my heart but somehow never quite finish me in one round. The words that I so carefully rehearsed in my mind night and day tasted foreign on my tongue when I built up the courage to spit them back at you, and after a while I began to swallow them whole because you had a way of highlighting the ones you wanted to hear and skimming over the ones you didn't. The pain I endured for you was great yet never greater than my patience. Just like that you were a dream, a wish, a moment, and a memory all in one while to you I was one option of many, a choice. In my heart i knew this but you already had both hands wrapped around it with a grip tighter than any other. It was these same hands that wiped the tears you caused as they streamed down my face but I screamed that it was love. The same hands that traced every line on my body but I mumbled that it was love. The same hands that touched her but I whispered that it was love love love.
