I wanted to be perfect for you, to be kind and soft and strong and pliable, 

But somewhere along the way I became too much of all those things. Too kind, and my weakness irritated you, too soft and every way you could hurt me seemed that much worse when you actually did, too strong when neither of us would back down, too pliable when you needed a change, 

When you needed me to change. 
I traced please don’t go into your skin last night as you slept, 

Whispered into the dark all the secrets I had kept, confessed all the ways I had begun to hate you, in a last ditch effort to pretend like admitting the reasons had become a reality was the same thing as pretending they hadn’t. 

But when you’re leaving dishes in the sink, I’m memorizing the names of all the men I’ve loved before you, wondering if any of them will take me back. 

I took the steady rise and fall of your body in its sleep cycle as forgiveness, the silence as you slept on unaware of what was happening as my penance. This was supposed to be how I showed that I cared, 

To be able to tell you these things was to be able to not need to, ever again, 

But the spot where you were sleeping just hours ago is empty, I let my guard down and closed my eyes and you snuck out, and I wish you had taken the sun with you and I can’t hide that

I’m sorry, but I have to is becoming more visible between the spots my tears made as they dropped onto the sheets. 

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One thought on “For The Women Who Can Never Get Enough. 

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