If this isn’t love, then it’s ok.
There is a sense of foreboding that I can’t quite pinpoint. A silence where there should be a compliment. A long breath where there should be the truth. There is something that changes about your face, flickers in your eyes, whenever I mention the future.
Just say it. God, just say it. I can hear the words anyway twisting in my stomach like a knife.
If this isn’t love, then it’s ok.
I was open. I was vulnerable. I trusted what you told me. I assumed you acted with the best of intentions.
I was love. That hasn’t changed. You aren’t the gatekeeper to love. The judge. The referee. You don’t decide how much love I am worthy of. I do. You can’t take away anything of value from me, you can't decide that something has to stop because those things were never yours to give.
If this isn’t love, then it’s ok.
I forgive you. I really do. I know you are doing the best you can. It isn’t all your fault. I didn’t ask enough of you. I accepted too little too often.
I taught you how to treat me, and you have treated me badly. I have to work on my self worth. It’s a love affair I need to have with myself first.
If this isn’t love, then it’s ok.
Because love is coming. There will be love, with or without you. You are the one before the one. Or the one before that, or the one before that. If I even believe in ones.
If this isn’t love, then it’s ok.
Even after all the hurt and pain and torment of past, we chose to believe again together anyway. Thank you for trying to love me. I’m proud I tried to love you too.
This isn’t love.
It’s ok.
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