burst

He is just as interesting, in that fucked up kind of way, as you. When he first kissed you, you couldn’t breathe for days. You think you have found someone to love. Look for any sign that the affection you feel is reciprocated. At first it seems as if he cares for you. In his sleep he holds your hand, pulls you to him, but he’s hung up on the past, and colder the closer you get. Any tenderness becomes the world to you, your tether. The strain of trying to be something to someone who feels they deserve nothing will make you think you aren’t much of anything. You work the desire, but it yields diminishing emotional returns. You will push and pull each other until you’re both left sore.

You are not special to him. There will be no songs for you.

You didn’t want a name, or anything close to forever. You needed to mean something. You know you were right from the beginning to be afraid. Sad and anxious all the time, you forget who you are. You are hollowed out with wanting. It has made you dull. You wait for the inevitable. It doesn’t come until you force him to do it. Press and beg him to let you go. To tell you no, you can’t have him anymore. You never had him at all.

He had you from the start.