i read once, somewhere,
that it is so easy to love someone when and if they’re
but it isn’t that way, when they lay on the bathroom floor,
at 2 am, crying, because everything
came crashing down at once.
and then, i stood up and wondered:
you loved me.
even when i started to cut myself
to the bone,
when there was blood everywhere,
you cleaned it all up
and put band-aids on my wrists.
you hugged me and said:
„why’d you do this?”
you never ran.
not even when i had my moments.
when i started to yell my lungs out
and heavy things were dropped on the floor.
you didn’t even flinch
when i hit you,
because i was hurt,
of anything but you.
and you didn’t listen to me
when i ordered you to
get the fuck out of my house.
you just smiled
and hugged me.
never said another word,
until my breath was even.
you were there
when i started crying like the world was ending in that
when i was clinging on my past,
like it happened right a second before.
you asked me what’s wrong,
even if you knew,
you didn’t made faces when i told you,
the same story
again and again and again;
but you looked at me with such love,
you had stars, no, galaxies in your eyes.
but when everything was ok,
you left me.
shut the door behind you, never replying to my texts,
barely answering to my phone calls.
why did you love me only through my darkest times?
(photo Helena Almeida)