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Monday, November 26, 2012

you. it was always you.

I was drowning my thoughts and dancing where every boy could watch when you saved me from myself.  I told you nothing could happen between us.  I warned you that I was broken and no good and that it woud only lead to heartbreak.  You just looked at me, shook your head, and proceeded to kiss me anyways.  And how could I ever say no? I was broken, but you were too.  And the love we founded on blurred weekends and slurred words healed both our hearts.  I warned you I was trouble, but you held me tight and lent me the strength I needed to smile again.
I'm still afraid to break you like she did; you are more fragile than you like to let on.  I'm even more afraid to lose the only thing that shines in the darkness surrounding me.  You're chest, that simple thump-thump-thump of your heart, it's my anchor. My faith when I hid from God.  
I'm broken, but you aren't in a hurry to fix me.  You love me anyways, you say. And if you can love me at my saddest, I can't wait to see how easy this is when I'm healed and happy again.