I fell in love with early mornings, and how our bones groaned from exhaustion of memories ingrained in the night.
I tried too hard to be good enough, I ran and ran until I collapsed, right on your front door, right into your arms
We all knew how it was going to end. My head. My gut. Every fiber of my being knew. And of course, my heart knew. It always knew.
I want you to tame my wild and unruly heart and make it your own. I want to become a part of you in a way I’ve never been a part of someone before.
For an only child, it’s harder to love because we are so used to our independence.
I’m not sure that I’ve been in real love, but I do know that I have run barefoot in the rain four blocks like a pathetic goddamn Nicholas Sparks novel in attempts to hold onto something I never second guessed to call love.
Healthy love brings you down to earth.
You held out your hand,
said to take it
as we approach the sand.
Someone with anxiety falls in love the way you do – they fall in love intensely and vulnerably and wholly. The only difference for them is getting to a place where they believe that they truly deserve it.
Love will always leave scars.