Robyenish.

I miss that good love

that crime-less, no-hangover, totally-harmless, no-need-for- explanation, down-right-honest, no-defending- his-or-her- bad-actions,

kinda love–

that love that leaves a sweetness on your lips when you say it aloud,

not like the kind of love it seems I’ve become accustomed– painful and tragic, mainly made up of rehearsed excuses meant to justify my routine mistreatment.

there’s a bitter taste to all the key phrases:

“.. didn’t mean it”

“.. good intentions”

“.. genuinely..”

“.. misunderstanding”

“.. does care”

“.. defense mechanism”

“.. trust issues”

“.. said sorry”

“.. changed”

“I swear”

not that it matters what I choose to say it’s all the same

it troubles me

I’ve presumably forgotten what that good love feels like– a celebrated love, an intense passion that doesn’t leave me with burn marks or battle scars

love that comes with a “how we met” story a “how quickly we fell for each other” timeline a “magical moment” that on paper would seem too good to be true, but it’d make perfect sense when talking about us

it’s not that I need a love I can brag about, though that would be a nice touch,