He told me he thought he did,

he thinks he did,

he did,

and he told me that he loved me…

I honestly thought love was being there for somebody unconditionally. In the cold, when you’re sick, when everything’s pretty, not just whenever the going gets good. If I needed love, wouldn’t someone who loves me would care to be there for me anytime?

…And he grabs me in his haste,

holds me tight, no time to waste.

Squeezes me close, eyes to the ground.

Warmer in the room, my ascending fear.

Our breaths are the only sound.

He kisses my neck, oh dear.

Another peck and a feeling of impeccable doom.

I pull away while wanting more, but resuming to stare at the door.

He walks a distance, and come backs, to hold me harder.

No and I’m sorry about everything about that day.