I loved you once. I loved you with all I had, and maybe it wasn’t enough, or maybe it wasn’t what you wanted, or maybe it wasn’t what you thought love should be. But I loved you still. You took everything, and even as I stood there before you, broken and empty, you asked for more. What I couldn’t give, you stole. But I loved you still. When the only thing you gave in return was sharp and cutting, carving a map of scars. Always asking for forgiveness. For blindness. Ripping out my pages, setting fire to my words. But I loved you still. As you turned softness into jagged edges. sweet into bitter. Mystery to mistrust. Memories into dust. But I loved you still. Even as I watched you poison the water and bring it to me in a gilded cup. ‘drink this’ you said and I did. Because I loved you still. And when I showed you inside, my foundation crumbling, my walls black with rot, you shrugged. ‘no one else will treat you like I do.’
I loved you once.