Why Did I Get Married 

I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand why I got engaged to the idea of love, the wonderings of forever and always. That was our phrase, you know?

Promises, promises. 

After you agonisingly tore up my heart like it was an inconvenience to break someone in multiple ways for the sake of your own freedom, to mean that I can barely keep my eyes open because I keep them wide open to be able to see yours plainly. So wide and pure and kind, your gaze sang to me. 

It hurts I cannot be mad at you, that I cannot rage at you and blame you for holding my heart so empathetically when I was so willing to give it away, as it was clear it’s been a while since I’ve touched another soul. I know my cravings are ones that you cannot fill, but consume me whole anyway.

I know my love is traditional, and you don’t want to receive any kisses from me, but touch me someplace anyway, you know you owe me. 

Was I a glamour in your vision, a goddess on stage, but up close, you felt I was too human? Did you not feel as if maybe I could give up the one thing that made me revive again and again? after I’ve fallen too many times, I grew to be more into myself and yet I decided to fall from the heavens and bless you with a promise that I’ll turn mortal for you, but you disliked them, “too bounding,” you said. 

As you were too busy discovering you, never did you once ask if I too could join you as a tourist, and explore you too.  She was bad at love, felt trapped when I meant for comfort, but how would that make any sense if it was the best love I ever had? Too bad she recoiled at every touch, not her to be at fault, but it was the closest I felt to another being while being apart in this tragic land. 

Yes, there were a lot of things I did not need to intertwine with, to beg for mercy for, when she is grace and understanding, (I) mistook what was granted for evermore. 

I cannot spew words towards your direction and act like someone new, because in another life, not too long ago, I once looked and felt like you. This is not to slander, nor begging, nor “what if”’s in any manner. Must I be so cruel however, if I were to hope in my tender artery that I could be such a person, I could only be the one your heart belonged to, on a silver platter. To swear, the true love that mattered, while a ring on your finger was too deep, too far, so am I, so beautiful but wretched and shattered. 

I think I’ll always know, even if I’ll never truly understand, why I must betroth myself to the concepts of love, the ponderings of always and forever. May it have been common and basic, but you never worried if it was. You never could nary a fear if I was. And after all the deconstructing and fixing myself to be a better person, I am too great, to further than the modern day better girlfriend, that I await to be exactly who you and I need, the perfect, crystalised version. Just for you, only for you.