Always

Something I wrote a long time ago when a boy hurt me. Shout out to you, J.R., you've taught me a lot about love and how not to love.

I do not want mediocre love.

I do not want empty spaces, steady breathing, safe speed. 

I want to suffocate. I want to be drenched in passion and strangled by the love in your fingertips. I want you to suck the breath out of my lungs and spit it back at me in the form of dirty words. Take my heart out of my chest and thrust it into the sky, put it on show for all the world to see: your treasure. Make my eyes roll to the back of my head, force me to see colors I didn't think existed before you. I want you to take me by the arms and swing me forward into the unknown, I want to revel in your brilliance. Cast a shadow over me, make me little, break me down piece by piece just to remind me that you are the only one that can put me back together. Don't just tell me; show me. Show me how your hands are just a tad bigger than mine, show me how your lips dance against mine, and please- hurt me. Hurt me, because I want you to hold me. I want you to cradle me in your arms until I shake, wipe away my tears and know that I am yours.

And you, mine.

Siempre. Always. Mine.

Turn my weekends into your days. Make sure that I cannot eat alone without the urge to set a plate for you. Be certain that I will forever associate the J train with you, and you alone. That TV show that comes on at 8pm every Friday is no longer just yours, it's ours. It's a memory. An association. Everything that we do and love will forever be yours.

And I hate you for it.

I hate you for making my breath unstable. I hate you for lifting me up so high before you let me fall. I hate you for painting pictures in my head before smearing them with your stupid, perfect hands. When my friends play that song you used to blast in the car I turn my head and pretend you're there. The coffee I drank tasted like Sunday mornings. I don't drink coffee anymore.

When my coworker told me she lived on the J line all I could do was ask which stop. I wanted to know just how much closer you'd be to a stranger than you ever would be to me again. When that show comes on I sit and wonder if you're watching it, too, and in a strange way I tell myself that maybe this would be the only time we could watch anything together. Maybe you're laughing when I laugh, except when I turn my head you're not there. I can't admire your eyelashes or how your cheeks dimple when you smile. I wonder if you knew. If you ever caught me staring so lovingly at the profile of your perfect face. Maybe you did, and maybe that's why you left.

I don't feel empty. I feel robbed. Robbed of those good memories, like all the good things were given back to you once you left. I wake up and I realize that home is no longer home, because home is where the heart is and you took that from me as well. 

But I am beautiful. I am beautiful, and I am kind, and I am so much more than lost memories and random fits of crying. My mind is brilliant, my heart is pure, and I will always be radiant. I have so much love to give and you are no longer welcome to take it. Maybe one day the memories of you will just be the faded Polaroids I have tucked underneath my mattress; And some other boy will come along and replace the taste of my coffee with his Fridays. 

I will always love. I will always be kind. And I will always be mine before I am anyone elses.

Siempre. Always. Mine.