I Loved You And You Broke Me

This is what I’m sure being with you would have been like in the end.
Flickr / Bob Jagendorf
Flickr / Bob Jagendorf

I am not going to apologize to you because that would be re-living a painful death; a death where I am buried alive. In truth, if I could have chosen between natural death and losing you, I would have chosen the former. I loved you. I loved you honestly and beautifully and sacrificially and painfully; I loved you till all I did was hurt. I loved you with every ounce of blood and skin and feeling I ever had. I loved you and you broke me.

You broke me like I had been a stranger to you. No, you broke me like I had been your enemy. Because strangers do not deserve being left out in the dark of night, the cold of day, the pouring rain, the blistering sun. And that’s what you did, you left me in all these states and all at once. I loved you and you broke me.

You broke me with such ease, like all we had and all I was, was a bad dream; a recurring nightmare in your otherwise perfect slumber. You broke me and I was no longer your nightingale, your source of strength, your reason for being; your soul, your body, your heart, your hope. Even though when you left, you were still mine. I loved you and you broke me.

You broke me and left me with scars and open wounds, with no remedies for my pain, no closure, no solace; you broke me and left me in nothingness, and without any respite. All that existed was an empty space in a room with no light; all my faith slipped through windows and doors. I became a stranger to my life and to my existence. I loved you and you broke me.

You broke me and I fixed myself. With papier-mâché and duct tape and anger and sadness and dark humor and one too many drinks and drugs that made me numb; and far too much sexual attention from men I knew were bad for me. But you broke me so you don’t get to judge me for any or all of this. I loved you and you broke me.

You broke me and I fixed myself woefully, terribly, imperfectly, but still the best ways I could in each passing moment; getting to and through the next moment was my only concern. And I did it. And I don’t know if I can say I wouldn’t do it all over again. So I’m not going to apologize to you. I loved you and you broke me.

You broke me but I fixed myself, and I am still alive. Breathing. Surviving. Healing. And waiting. Waiting for the day, the hour, the moment where I know that I will love you forever but also know for certain, that the brokenness you created has become something beautiful. And because of the beauty that comes with this kind of brokenness, I don’t need you to apologize to me either. But for now we can just leave at this: I loved you and you broke me. TC mark


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  • katy8046

    Reblogged this on Birdwrites and commented:
    Sometimes I don’t have the words for the feelings that keep me awake at 03:09 in the morning, as tears silently fall down my cheeks and wet my already damp, cold pillow. I read this and continued to cry as I have been for more nights than I can count. Here. This is what I want to say.

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