I hope she’ll be forgiving not because I want to hurt her. I’d never hurt the person I love intentionally, ever. I’m a good guy who buys chocolates and flowers and wants to take her to the movies, be in a cooking class together and watch the sunset until the day is over. I’m not the life of the party, and I’m pretty much a beta male. I hope she forgives me in times when I’m dull because I really don’t have a life besides writing greeting card poetry, binge-watching all of my favorite TV shows and meeting my shrink once or twice or thrice a week depending on how much crazy I’m feeling. All I can promise is that I’ll let her eat the last piece of pizza and cherish her so much on nights when she’s feeling extra tired and empty. I’ll try to make her smile or giggle even just for a little bit as I do the sexy evening kitchen dance while an Ed Sheeran song is playing on the radio. I hope she forgives me when I someday tell her “I love you” and what I really mean by that is “I’m broken, and I’m very much clueless when it comes to love but here’s my heart and I promise you that it will beat for you till’ the last of my tomorrows and hopefully you can do the same for me.”
I love you. I think no one has understood me as a person beside you. You are the person who makes me think of rainbows and butterflies when all I can think of most of the time is what happens when my body dies. Death for me has always been a curious thing but lately death for me has been an intrusive thought that I couldn’t seem to stop to the point where I feel like I’m going mad or insane. It is only when I think of you that I think of life.
I love you. And what I really mean by that is that you are my healing. And maybe somewhere along the way, I’ll blame you for not being the person I imagined you to be, but I promise that I won’t change you because I love you just the way you are. And you are terrifying and strange and lovely. Something that requires time to fall in love with. Something that requires more appreciation than possession.
I love you. And I thank you for making me love you. And I thank you for making me horny. You make me feel like I’m not clinically depressed. You give me so much hope. You give me so much love. My brain is safe inside your warm heart. And it is only when you tell me that you love me that I know that I am.
I love you therefore I exist.
Oh, her face that’s worth a thousand flowers.
Her heart that’s worth a thousand springs.
I couldn’t contemplate how much I’ve longed for her.
The sad girl in which the blue moon sings.
Singing I love her, Singing I miss her—
What’s the point of living with my Icarus wings?
Where it is only in my dreams that I can worship the sun—
Freeing half of my soul on fire, and a thousand broken things.
Someday I will meet her in a place between love, sadness, and healing.
A blossoming field where I’ll give her a thousand golden rings.