“You can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that.”
— Warsan Shire
Someone should have told me not to love you.
Well they did. But I didn’t listen.
Someone should have warned me that you would break my heart.
Well, they did. But I didn’t care. At least I thought I didn’t.
They told me to run. They told me that nothing good could come of this. That I would be wasting my time, and wounding myself in the process. They told me you couldn’t love me the way I needed to be loved; the way I deserve to be loved.
I thought they were being protective. I thought it was all an exaggeration. I thought they didn’t know you, not the way that I did. I thought I was different for you.
You made me feel like I was different. But someone should have told me I wasn’t.
Someone should have told me that a year down the line I would be just as broken-hearted as the women who came before me. I saw the signs. I saw the red flags painted on your bedroom walls. I saw the pieces of broken hearts you had left in a trail behind you leading to your feet. I heard the stories. I had seen them come to life.
Someone should have told me that you would take everything I had to offer and then leave me behind. Someone should have told me about the nights I would spend at home alone with a fake smile painted on my face, missing you, while you washed down your pain with another shot of whiskey on a street corner somewhere far away. Someone should have warned me of the confusion, the hurt, the hate, and the loss that would follow.
You weren’t here to stay. I know that now. But someone should have told me.
Someone should have told me I couldn’t make a home out of you.
Well they did.
But I didn’t listen.