I Don’t Love Half-Way And Neither Should You

Noah Hinton
Noah Hinton

What it feels like to love someone who’s halfway out the door:
You drag yourself out of your flashy silver Audi
And stop yourself at my white-picket gate
Not to smell the roses, but to wait for me to meet you halfway
I push myself through the thorns, bleeding my dignity
Just to hold you in my arms for 2 seconds
For the anticipated “hello” hug

We tiptoe through the sleeping house
The wood creaking, my heart pounding
Touching down to my spotless room
You sit down at the edge of my bed
Sheepishly assembling your arm around me
Sighing as if it were a chore
You were already halfway out of the door

I soak up every smile, every word, every touch
The whole world goes quiet
I am fully submerged in us
And your big eyes widen
And you grin that childish smile
Because you’re in this too

57 minutes later, you rack your brain for an excuse
You mumble that you have to be somewhere
And in a flash you are out of the door
Reaching the safety of your silver bubble
Pressing the gas, zooming far away

For weeks I hold onto those 57 minutes
Replaying every second
Analyzing every move and every word
And then whenever you need your “fill”
I’m simply a text, followed by a “yes”
And then you’re on your way

It’s becoming clear to me as the months go by
Repeating the same pattern over and over
That 57 minutes isn’t enough
I deserve someone who will plow through rose bushes
And knock down my door if that’s what it takes to see me
Because I don’t love “half-way” and neither should you. TC mark

Related

More From Thought Catalog

blog comments powered by Disqus