in Your unending love ♥

Everybody has gone through something that has changed them in a way that they could never go back to the person they once were.

And that’s how you know you really love them: you forgive. Even if they didn’t apologize.

“I hope we last. I hope we do. But if we don’t, this is how I want you to remember me: I want you to remember me curled up, listening to the sound of your heartbeat and tracing maps across your skin. Remember me laughing at your jokes, even the stupid ones. Remember me in hysterics for absolutely no reason and in tears because one time you made me so sad neither of us thought I’d recover. Remember me brave, that time you held my hand and I thought I was going to die; remember me scared and gentle and delicate and breakable - only for you though, only for you. Remember me happy, and all the ridiculous ways I tried to get your attention. Remember the way I was too stubborn to talk to you and how absolutely insane it drove the both of us. Remember all the firsts and how they were so delightful we went back for seconds and thirds and fourths. Remember the songs you couldn’t stop listening to and the childish dreams you allowed yourself about the future. If it’s any consolation I allowed myself to have them too. If it comes to it I don’t want you to remember the ending. Remember the beginning. Remember the first time you knew.

Maybe love is like rain. Sometimes gentle, sometimes torrential, flooding, eroding, joyful, steady, filling the earth, collecting in underground springs. When it rains, when we love, life grows.

i think that maybe i’ve gotten over you, because i no longer expect you to travel around the world and tell me it’s always been me. i think that maybe i’ve gotten over you, because i no longer want to call, or text, or show up unexpectedly and tell you you’ve been the one for years. i think that maybe, i’ve gotten over you because i no longer hate her and i don’t expect him to taste like you. i think that maybe i’ve gotten over you like one gets over a car crash, or a bullet wound - i am ok, but there are still days i feel throbbing pain, there are still days when i wonder, there are still days when all my poems scream your name.

i wrote an almost poem,
about an almost love,
on an almost night,
in an almost town.i gave it your name.

my mind has to kiss yours before my lips can touch your skin.

we haven’t met yet and i wonder: what you are doing right now if you, too, are making mistakes trying to pass the time.