Be my muse

things I tell myself I'll edit someday

Love, exhaustion, etc.

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Much has been said, less has been done–on my part, that is. Perhaps I am a little too late to let you know that I know what’s weighing you down, I know what’s eating you up: I am a difficult lover.

I do things I said I will not do; I say stuff I do not mean. I stutter. I mumble. I speak out of turn. All because I fear the kind of hold you have of me. All because I think you are too damn good to be true, too damn perfect to even notice me, and too damn smart to even think I could be worthy of your affection. I make a fool out of myself. All because I love you.

You say it is easy to love me but so difficult to stay in love with me. You say I am too scared to drown myself in the kind of romance you want for us. You say I don’t love you enough to take a risk to be with you. How wrong you are.

I love you enough, maybe more than you think I do, but I just don’t know how. I don’t know how to begin showing it to you, because I fear that I might do it wrong. And I can’t let that happen. Not this time. Not with you.

But perhaps avoiding making a mistake is the most stupid thing I ever did. Now, I am losing you. I feel it in your sighs. I see it in your distant gaze. I am losing you, slowly and painfully losing you. All because I love you in the only way I know how.


Written by Angel Santos

July 30, 2013 at 5:24 PM

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