I seriously need to love you in the right way.
— Because there’s emptiness inside of my wordiness. I’ve known many ways to love someone, but not how I plan to treat you. You shall be different. It has to be. If not, I might never love again. And I’ve said it plenty of times before, but someone love manages to capture me. Am I cursed? Or am I human? Is this pain something we all must come to terms with? I know you’ve only loved me for a few months, but these cracks and scars, you’ve made them your home. You’ve made them yours. You took every poem and decided to love them, even if they weren’t written for you. I believe that’s why I love you. And love this and love that, what a simple word with many meanings. I love the way you are. I love the way you think. I love that you’re accepting of my flaws and I love that you always plan to understand, that I’m just a poet. Is this enough for you to stay?