because you never knew saying yes meant sleepless nights worrying about his past or that it meant something like long summer afternoons when even the weeds have shriveled up and you’re just waiting for them to die.
you ask yourself if love meant holding on, even when he talks about doves but only vultures fly out of his mouth. sometimes it’s too dark, they are the same sky-scraping creatures anyway, you tell yourself.
yesterday, you watched a couple break it off out of the corner of your eye. suddenly the park seemed more of a cemetery and you could easily picture the children lying in caskets, their eyes wide open. and they’re all staring at you.
everywhere you went after that, you asked yourself how many people have broken all ties with someone else on that exact same spot and it might have been the last place they saw each other. everywhere feels like a cemetery to you now.
in the library, while you were checking Keats out, you wondered how many couples decided that holding on to unresolved arguments was not love after all, but just a milder version of torture, while they ripped pages off the bible. in a Chinese restaurant that same day, while you were dining alone in the middle of the room, surrounded by families and first dates, as you struggled with the chopsticks, you wondered how many people decided that not talking to each other for a ridiculous amount of time, then pretending nothing happened is not love, while the pasta was left untouched. so, when will you decide that this isn’t love after all, that this just might be a relationship with a sad boy who loves another girl?