It always comes back to him...
I don't need to hold on to the hope that he’ll change. The hope that one
day he’ll wake up and realize all the hurt he’s caused me even in his absence,
by his absence. I don’t need to hold on to the hope that he’ll one day wake up
and love me, really truly unconditionally love me. I don’t need to sit here
waiting at the bottom of this step in the cold pouring rain, drops blending in
with my tears, hoping that he’ll open the door and let me in; that’ll he’ll
embrace me with a warmth that swallows me whole and softens the ice walls
around my heart until the melt away into beautiful flowing rivers giving life
to all the dry earth around it.
He was the first man I learned to love unconditional. I
loved him the way Christians loved God. I couldn’t see him, I rarely heard him,
but I knew, I just knew he was there and I loved him with an unyielding love.
Loved him without question simply because he was… That’s it. Love him because he
was, and I was of him.
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