“how much do you love me?”

…your voice is quieter, now that it’s over. you said she still loves you, and while i believe that once you love a person you can never really stop loving them, i don’t understand how someone could hurt you so badly. they must be accustomed to ripping the wings off of butterflies. to harm something so tender, so beautiful, with no evident remorse, seems rather sadistic. to make this benevolent being hold out hope for something that may never happen is even more sinister.

she says that maybe one day you can finish what you both started. i wish i could tell you that when they say they’re going to come back, they never do. but that would break your fragile little heart even more. if i split it into even tinier pieces, they would slip through my fingers and i would fucking lose you. again.

as of right now, i stare at the shards as they lay on the floor, shattered and jagged. i want to step forward and gather them up, piece them back together, but something is stopping me. it might just be my own inhibitions that are keeping me from talking to you in the way that i know you need after all these years.

then again, i could just be imagining things. all those years ago, i was convinced that you loved me. the way that you touched me, held me, even just the way you fucking looked at me screamed desire. i remember all of it. all of those stupid conversations we had, all the times our limbs found themselves entangled as we sat in the shadows of our secluded patio, the one that, of course, belongs to the school technically, but we claimed for ourselves. i remember the way we danced to that song about following each other into the dark in that same space. i remember.

and i remember the day you just… stopped. how can i trust my own senses when they denounced me so violently?

it seems childish to list these examples, like i’m typing up a fucking persuasive essay entitled ‘you were just as hopeless for me as i was for you, and i can prove it!’ for our freshman english course, the class that brought us together, and changed my life forever.

ever since you stopped, though, i’ve been scouring the world, my own mind, for answers. i figured that time away from you helped, but i can see now that it only postponed the inevitable.

i want to protect you from the entire fucking world. especially from her. the one that you loved so deeply and for so long. the one that betrayed you, stole your fucking wings just to see if she could. my beautiful butterfly boy, i would wrap you up in a cocoon of care, if only i could find a way to take away your pain without having my own resurface.

i cannot resolve to help you if i can’t even help my fucking self.

though it hurts to watch you suffer so, i’ll always be willing to bleed for you.


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