To Be Loved By You

Imagine yourself inside the most beautiful building you have ever seen, within this building are memories that are irreplaceable, secrets that remain untold, feelings that have never been discovered by another, and your whole entire soul. As you're standing inside this beautiful building it catches fire, there is nothing you can do except stand and watch it burn. Everything that you ever loved, gone. You stand there with tears in your eyes and wonder how you could’ve prevented this fire, but the honest truth is you couldn’t have. Nothing you did could’ve stopped the eruption of that beautiful building. That’s the equivalent of what loving you was like. Though I think you will never understand that. Perhaps that’s the saddest part of this story, the way you will never realize how magnificent what we had was. That concept is rather hard for me to grasp considering we built that metaphorical building together. I find myself wondering why in the hell you would ever want to burn such a captivating place to its base. The more I think about it the more I understand how complicated love is. I looked it up love; an intense feeling of deep affection. But I don’t think that definition is spot on, maybe the person who wrote that definition never really experienced love, well at least not with you. Our love or the love we had, past tense of course, it wasn’t just a feeling, it was knowing. It was knowing that at the end of the day we had each other, we always had another to lean on, to share with, to be ourselves around, to try to grasp the vast meaning of this world or of the world of love. Though we never found it, not that I think anyone ever will, I’d like to think that we both understand it a little better now. It was the way you looked at me when I did something dumb or “funny”, the way you try to make me feel better when I was sad, the way you would sing along to music with me even when you didn’t particually like the song. Correct me if I’m wrong but I think you liked having me around. Finally the thrill of having another person to share your emotional trauma with, to binge watch tv with, drive around with, and lastly just straight be in love with. Maybe that’s not what love is, yet it sure as hell felt like it. Being with you everything was different, almost like I was a better version of myself, until I wasn’t. Which I don’t blame you, that’s just kinda how the game goes, or how I play it. Love is so difficult and messy, but with you it never really felt that way until the end. Though when you love someone there never truly is an end, there’s just breaks and prolonged pauses. Like a song you play over and over again until you don’t want to listen anymore. Although someday when you remember how good the song was you just turn it back on. Then it’s back again, replaying your head. But in my head it never stopped playing, I could never pause the song, no matter how hard I tried. Somedays I just sit waiting for the day you’ll decide that the song was kinda soothing and was the best thing you’d ever heard. Almost as beautiful as the stars we looked at together or the building we “built”. Though we will never have that back, unfortunately. But if you ever happen to start constructing another one with someone else I would like you to remember how much time it takes to build it up. All the things at stake when taking up a project that big. I want you to remember before you buy those matches and light them, before you drop it without a second thought, remember how much damage you’ll cause. Not just to the building itself, but to the person standing inside of it.

This poem is about: 
Me

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