I’ve loved him.
So hard.
So quiet.
With every emotion.
With everything I keep in me.
He didn’t mean it.
It puts a sickness in you--
to love another human being
and know that he doesn’t love you back;
it puts a sickness in your gut,
dull and heavy,
and pulls you to the floor
like a shallow sack of lead
or mercury.
He didn’t mean it.
How do you pull him to the ground
with you
and make him hold your body
to his chest?
How do you...
He has held me.
And I have smiled
and closed my eyes wearily.
But.
God, but...
He didn’t mean it.
I’m so dizzy.
It feels as if the floor
is rushing past my head.
Towards the ceiling.
I want to tell someone I did mean it.
I did mean it.
He didn’t mean it.
Reason for writing:
I'm not sure if I like this one. It was written to get a few things out of my system (it's really a long, long story), and I don't usually write things like this. But, before I start rambling: Any criticism appreciated.
Birth sign: Virgo
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