I ALWAYS end up at your doorstep. No matter how much I prepare myself, no matter how many times I promise not to go there, it ALWAYS happens.
I have let it destroy me. I have let it cripple my good days and nurture my bad ones. The idea of you, quite literally controls me. It affects my opinion of men, my opinion of love, my opinion of self.
But last night was different.
For the first time since I’ve known you, you spoke words that I frequently mumble to myself. The same reflections I have in the wee hours of the morning, when I’m trying to sleep and cannot escape thoughts of you.
“We’re toxic for each other.”
“We’re too similar.”
“I hate when you make it sound like that.”
“I do have feelings for you…”
You see, I have spent the better portion of the last year consumed by you.
Feeling too much, feeling too little. Feeling passion and singing every – I don’t give a fuck – song, just to forget the way I feel in your arms.
But last night…was different.
When you told me all those things I tell myself night after night, I realized you think about it too. All that time I spent telling myself I was crazy, because people said you never cared, was wasted on an assumption that people could possibly understand what happens when we’re together.
Wasted on an assumption that I was wrong.
That I misread the signals.
That I don’t know myself.
But most of all,
That I don’t know you.
Maybe they’re right and I’m wrong. I’m so entangled in your roots I can’t even see straight. What I do know is that we are a natural disaster and nothing feels more right than the earth taking back what’s hers.
People die, cry, and scream to claim what they felt was theirs to begin with.
But I tremble along your fault lines.
And you break down the walls of my home when you crash into me.
You uplift my life with declarations so strong that no safe house could protect me.
People are scared of the storm.
But I would gladly run into its eye, if I knew that you would catch me.