i have never known love in the way that you love me. itâs not healthy i know, but i am holding my breath waiting for the other shoe to drop. waiting for the broken glass shattered at the foot of my bed and the sleepless nights where your silence rips at my soul more than any words that could ever spill from your mouth. Iâm waiting for the conversation that always inevitably comes, the âyouâre too much,â or ânot enoughâ conversation, the one where you tell me iâm not trying hard enough or iâm trying too much. iâm waiting for the days when iâm too clumsy and probably too awkward because itâs always followed by the sound of us yelling, you yelling, him yelling i mean. iâm waiting for the empty mornings and the mind numbing nights that are never met with an âi love youâ as if it were a feeling youâd left at the front door before you came in, or before you were leaving and while weâre on the subject, iâm waiting for that too. you leaving i mean. No one ever sticks around to play with a broken toy and how am i supposed to convince myself that youâre any different. except you are, different i mean. And i know all of the things iâm waiting for, terrified for, may never come and my god do i love you so naively as if itâs the first time id ever fallen in love. until iâm reminded that itâs unfortunately not the first time and i find myself once again, breath caught in my throat, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
