you loved a boy
and he loved you
though he had loved before
or at least, had thought himself to love before,
this was wholly of a different kind
the love he had before didn’t feel like this.
true, it had started off with heat and sweaty hands,
as most loves do,
but then it lost its brightness and became cold,
something that ate away at the boy
and however much the boy offered
it took and took
and never gave
and wasn’t soft or kind
so the boy was left broken
in more ways than he ever told,
in more ways than he even understood.
but then you loved a boy,
a boy who was broken
and you were good, and beautiful, and true,
and your voice sang a love song that was only for him,
and your touch made him fear that his heart would break
in the most wonderful way
and the boy loved the girl
completely
this love was warm and soft
and air and breath and life and
more
all the boy wanted was to be
consumed by the girl
just to be closer to her
so that he was never apart
and then it was gone.
and the boy was confused
because this love hadn’t changed,
it hadn’t grown dim or dark,
it was soft and full and fire
and gone…
and it could not be the girl
because she loved the boy,
she had told him
In her honey whispers late into the night.
the boy knew her words were true
because she was good and true
and because she had saved the boy
then she was gone.
and the boy was left more broken than before,
the only thing left in the boys heart
was the horrible thought, that perhaps
he was not worthy of love;
and it was horrible,
because I believed it to be true
