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Writer's picturerhicrks

The problem with love

He could never love me the way I need to be loved

completely, inarguably, inexhaustibly

because despite his best intentions I crave the reassurances a thousand promises cannot possibly amount to

I crave the silence between daybreak's where I no longer fear he will disappear on the moonlight tide

I crave the certainty of a future

unable to function on possibilities


but all he can offer me is possibilities

blind faith that maybe one day we'll reach that certainty and my desires will be fulfilled

but I don't think I can stand the wait


everyday scares me


each morning as he wakes I search his eyes for that damn reassurance that he still feels the same

and every night I wait till he takes me in his embrace and reminds me of my unmoving position in his life


but some nights it does not come

those are the nights where the thoughts take over my conscious state and I lie awake imagining bodies half held out of doors waiting for the signal to escape


how can someone love me knowing I will never truly believe them when they confess their love

how can someone hold me and tell me I am whole and beautiful and kind when inside I am still broken


you cannot fix shattered glass with the glue of hope, it does not bind against the fear of loneliness


and so as my love grows for you as each day passes so too does my hope that if all else fails my love will be the strength that keeps my ballerina heart spinning on its pedestal

hoping for the one day you will find the substance to make me whole again as you so say I have done you

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