just in time for 12pm tea…
I did not expect. This.
The dread. The nerves. The panic.
I did not expect your perfection.
When did your face become so porcelain?
So charming? So disarming?
When did you start smiling?
When did you become the character? With grace, style, charisma?
And when did you stop shuffling around like your presence was not worth acknowledgement?
Was our being so hard to bear, you dare not be seen?
The inevitable. One heart so alive and comforted with the thought of you.
One heart terrified of being alone.
One heart naive in desperate love and sacrifice.
One heart grasping at the easy desperation.
All fun and games until…
The desperate heart unravels.
Why could you?
I wish you would let me go.
But you told me you would fight for me.
And you are a man of your word.
I wish you had told me you would fight me.
Fragile, honest, loving heart.
Could have warned me.
It tears me up that I can’t love him the way I want to.
But now no heart left to break.
Just shattered, torn, constricted.
exhausted. open heart.