To The Guy I Loved For All The Wrong Reasons

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You frighten me with your terrible beauty. Your soul speaks to me like no one has ever before. I am magnetized by the courage that you possess. I gravitate to the weight of your gaze. I am trapped in the longing that one day you will love me the way I wanted to be loved.

Your heart belongs to no one. You are a master of your own fate, the captain of your ship. You were born to explore the world and I will wait for your return. You entered my life and claimed my love. Your promises were crippled and thin and yet here I am, writing the chapters of my life expecting that one day, as I turn the page, I will read your name again.

I remember the hands that lingered on the folds of my body felt like chains I did not want to cut loose. The apologies you uttered on behalf of your absence did not even cover the painstaking energy it took for me to get back on my feet. Time and time again I did not listen to the voice that told me to stop chasing after you. I ignored the truth and fought for a love I did not own.

In your return I covered the past in lilies and green. I did not want you to feel guilty for leaving like a crooked man hiding secrets under his cloak. I welcomed you back in the doorstep of my temple, which is my being. I bargained the strength and hope that I had left in exchange for me to be in your arms again.

Nothing could prepare me for the worst thing you have ever done: to come back only to leave again.

The morning breaks, and I do not know the man I sit down to eat breakfast with. Your eyes look past me like a sword of ice. Your thoughts are like wildfire eating everything in its path. The cigarette you let linger on your lips tells me a story I do not want to hear. Our time together has been short and reckless. You could end our encounter with, “I don’t want to take much of your time” but my heart would still want to follow you anywhere you go, love you anyway it could, and make you feel that you can finally call someone home.

As I turn off the lights and tuck myself in to sleep, I think about how it’s already been two days since I held your face in my arms. The memory is seeping. I take one last look at the life I lived with you and I want to thank you for it. You made me feel alive like I have never been. I am a product of your mischievousness. I am the last candle flicking before midnight that finally has peace once the wind blows the flames away. I am your canvass but you will always be my painter. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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