But I saw him
slowly losing
interest in me,
and it felt like
looking at a
beautiful flower
giving up its
dying petals,
as if I don’t want
to know
how much
it breaks what’s
deep within me.
I don’t know how to tell you this.
My entire body is shaking
thinking about it.
This isn’t something I can keep in.
Will you still want me
When I tear down my walls
And let you see
All the wreckage?
To be in love with him, she realized, implied an escape. In meant there was an out, and there was no out with him. There was only love.
Eventually you hit that point where you’re no longer interested in convincing people that how you feel and who you are is valid and decide that as long as you know your truth and what works for you, that’s what matters.
