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Make him laugh, it is the most beautiful sight. Grab his hands in the street and dance with him. Make him breakfast in bed. Kiss him in front of all of your friends. Wear your love happily, let it shine through your eyes, let everyone know that he is one who enlivened you. Be proud of him, be thankful for what he inspired within you.
I want our love to respect us, to respect the beauty of what we create together. And though I want our love to be a fighter, the kind that pushes and battles and draws every weapon it has just to stay in the war against goodbyes, I want our love to know when to walk away. When to lay down its arms. When to let go.
Sometimes, the girl who smiles the biggest holds the biggest hurt. Sometimes the girl who encourages everyone around her needs to be told that she is appreciated, that she matters; sometimes she needs to be encouraged herself.
I refuse to fall in love with the idea of who you can be if I were to nip and tuck and patch and sew you into someone else. If I were to throw a blanket over the baggage in your ribcage, only focusing on the prettiest parts of you. I refuse to love you in halves.
Suddenly, love was mornings spent laughing until I cried. It was having someone make time for me. Love was airport gates, until it turned into “I am moving across the country to be with you.”
We don’t need space because we want to break up, or because we don’t want to spend time with you. We need space because that is how we nourish ourselves, that is how we feed our souls.
You stopped loving them the way they deserved to be loved; you stopped fighting for them the way they needed to be fought for.
