I wonder if you know yet that you’ll leave me. That you are a child playing with matches and I have a paper body. You will meet a girl with a softer voice and stronger arms and she will not have violent secrets or an affection for red wine or eyes ...
I will love you when you are a still day. I will love you when you are a hurricane.
But my heart is an old house (the kind my mother grew up in) hell to heat and cool and faulty in the wiring and though it’s nice to look at I have no business inviting lovers in.
I thought leaving you would be easy, just walking out the door but I keep getting pinned against it with my legs around your waist and it’s like my lips want you like my lungs want air, it’s just what they where born to do so I am sitting at work...
All this time I drank you like the cure when maybe you were the poison.
We are more than the worst thing that's ever happened to us. All of us need to stop apologizing, for having been to hell and come back breathing.
