Before you say those three little words, let me warn you. Loving me is not going to be easy.
Some days, you are going to feel like you hold the entire universe in the palm of your hands, ecstatic and infinite. On those days, your life will be a blur of colors in shades you would never have dreamed of, and you will want to stand on tree tops and shout your happiness into the world, letting it seep through the night air, breathing life back into many souls.
And, on other days, you will feel like the azure skies, always there but overlooked, taken for granted. And your heart will bleed in shades of melancholic blue.
Those are the two types of days that you are guaranteed to have. But, there will be a third kind of day, one as rare as the blue moon. One you will never see coming.
And, on these days, you will feel the dark clouds of despair hanging over your head, just waiting to give birth to a raging and screaming thunderstorm inside your ribcage. You will feel like a man standing in the middle of an empty and lonely road, refusing to move no matter how many times the lightning strikes him. Repeatedly. And you will be the one, staring out the window, hoping for someone to shout happiness into your soul from the tree tops.
My eyes, empty and devoid of any kind of emotion for you, will haunt your days. You will feel like an insect trapped inside a Venus flytrap. You will be the little kid who plays with the light switch because he has nothing better to do — your feelings constantly flickering between light and dark, between wanting to leave but not knowing how. And you will hate yourself for it.
And when I scribble something on pieces of paper and crumple and throw them in frustration, you will pick up the pieces after I’ve gone to bed, and smooth out the wrinkles and read the verses, all the while convincing yourself that they are for you, and all the while knowing deep inside your heart, that they’re not.
And, when you’re lying in bed with the verses dancing behind your eyelids, the fragmented ends of my unfinished poetry will stab you a thousand different ways and make you feel pain in places you thought it was impossible to feel.
You will constantly compare your life to a box with a tiny hole on top, a means of escape, but too tiny to squeeze through. It will leave you with cuts and bruises if you ever tried.
So, being a coward, you will take the easy road. You will stay. You will stay, even though the door is, and always has been, wide open. You will stay, because you know that even if you leave, traces of me will always linger in and on you.
And on the good days, when you wake up cheerful and determined to make everything better, you will print inspirational quotes from the internet and hang them all over the walls of our living room, believing that, eventually, things will get better, of course they will, they always do. Don’t they?
So, before you say those three little words, let me warn you. Loving me will not be easy. So, run. Run while you still have the chance.
Because, your heart will never be whole, and my heart will never be yours.