The broken emotional state you found me in,
and how you took me on,
and caressed my heart.
You're sugar sweet intentions,
that lifted me up,
when, before, the most I could do was fall apart.
A sensitive combination of your making me fall in love,
then breaking the spaces in between
until that was all.
Unsteadying my breathing in the worst and best ways.
Then appearing from behind again.
Oh, how I wish you would stay.
Oh, how I wish you would say:
"I watched as your drew figure eights on your fingertips. You kept repeating "This is to forever; this is to our time together." And I still remember that day so clearly- when you told me about how you had left your innocence at his door, how you enjoyed it, and how nauseas I felt with each passing word. I regret your decision for you. I regret every fucking decision you've made upon our meeting. But its not all your fault: when I broke your heart, in turn, you broke your silhouette. You felt the need to turn back to old habits of self-loathing and self-injury as if they hold some kind of consolation for my love. But regardless of what you say or how much you resent me, I'm going to knock on your door until you speak to me, until you look at me and tell me that no matter how much I hurt you, you'll still love me because I need that from you. I need you just as much as you need me. "
But you wouldn't waste a breath.