Why is your love so heavy?
Why does it weigh him down?
Why do you give it to him wrapped carefully in your heart when he doesn’t have hands soft enough to carry it?
Why do you conjure up his face and silently wish upon a star for him?
Why does your heart threaten to explode from your ribcage every time he looks at you?
Why do your wine-swirling hands crave to touch the hollow of his neck?
Why does the sunset remind you of the one time he said he loved you?
Why do you love him with your body?
Why did you allow your teeth to be stained with his name?
Why does his name live at the back of your throat?
Why do his promises mean the world to you?
Why is it that when he goes back on his word it feels as though someone has ripped the sun from your sky?
Why do you stretch yourself so thin for a man who cannot teach himself to love you?
Why do you want to write love letters on his stomach with your hot pink nails?
Why is it okay that he loves you in parts?
Why do you let his face live between your thighs?
You gave yourself to him and because of the way you have let him grip your hips you can’t quite look your father in the eye – not when you screamed “daddy” to a stranger.
Your face was buried in a mattress and you let him slam into you and leave his mark on your body, you whispered “I love you” long after he was gone.
I want to know why.
Tell me why.
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