Natalia Vela

But you left me afraid, afraid of opening myself up to anyone else, afraid of letting anyone touch me with more than just hands.

I suppose my love for you started to seep out from my pores, slowly, each time you broke me a little more, each time you hurt me a little more, each time I got closer and closer to numbness, because our love always felt more like pain than love, more tragic than beautiful.

We fall back into old habits – bad habits – with way too much ease. We’re thirsty, high and drunk on the act, we’ve got chatty mouths, hungry hands, and a fake light in our eyes. We begin to tear ourselves apart, yet again, in different ways on our search for wholeness.

I’m tired of burning, of being the one who waits, who wishes you came around to stay. But the truth is that you never will come around to stay, no, you don’t love me – not enough.

The best day in my life by far has been the day you last pulled out your blade on me, the day I finally was able to say enough.

When our hearts are screaming for more, we owe it to them to listen.