reflecting,

you want it all, until you have it all

and then you just want to run away.

and i did. i broke my own heart.

i had him wrapped around my finger,

sidelong glances across the candlelit room

in his red button-down flannel i loved most.

i smiled in his direction. i didn't think he'd notice,

till he smiled back. i swore i'd never been more in love.

he told me he loved me that night.

and i almost said it back. i almost said it back

but i didn't, because i was probably just in love

with the idea of him. (even though i had

pressed the rhinestones back onto my face

10 minutes previous, when he said he thought

they looked pretty.) i almost said it back, but i didn't

because i got scared. scared to be loved, i think.

he had a thousand girls begging at his feet.

what did i do to deserve his love? i wasn't worth it

and the thought tore me apart. i thought

the war would be over, standing in my favorite dress

that december night, i thought we'd be ok.

but i chose not to be chosen, and he's over

in my best friend's bed as i write this, and it's all

my fault, and every day it's a little more too late

to band-aid up my own heart.

but i keep thinking, picturing if it had all been ok:

nobody would've had to know about our love.

we'd keep it an ember, an inferno. but i suppose

love so strong is bound to become a wildfire,

and wildfires are bound to only burn.

(make author anonymous on anything other than ywp site please)