When you lose something you cannot replace

if only we were born ignorant instead of capable of a love strong enough to break us.

but in the center of our hearts we wanted something real. nothing can be perfect, we whispered, showering with our heads down to drown out the little things. he doesn’t love you like roses not like birdsong not like little gestures. he loves you like good enough, like his parents don’t mind you, like you’d be comfortable enough. like you don’t laugh as much as you pictured but it’s not like you don’t get along. like he’s a good person, like it would be scarier to be alone again, like you’d regret it if you left because you had it pretty good. what are the chances you’d find someone like that again.