.he wrote me love notes.

He wrote me love notes and pushed them through the cracks
between our beds and into my heart.
He made me coffee in the mornings like a promise each day would be better than the last
not because bad days didn't exist but because we started each one together.
He held me close and kissed my face, like he couldn't believe I was real
when really it was him I couldn't fathom was reality.
His hands trembled with nerves as he played me love song after love song
each one only feeling like it could scratch the surface of what we had.
He pulled me closer as we slept like he could somehow pull us into one person,
our bodies creating what our hearts already had.
He loved me fearlessly and fully

...until he didn't.


He wrote me rarely and formally
with hours between each superficial text.
He made coffee in the mornings alongside many other tasks that came before me
because each day started without a thought of us.
He rarely touched me, except to hold my hand when we went walking
his heart and his mind so far away from mine in this new reality.
His hands grew strong as he played love songs alone,
and their words felt foreign and flat.
He slept far away, even when in the same bed
his body creating a wall between me and his heart.
His fear strangled and suffocated our love

...until it was weak.


I wrote him love notes deep in my heart
and pushed them as far as I could into his.
I skipped the coffee and filled the cup instead with all of my effort
trying to start each morning choosing him.
I reached out for his touch, gently stroking his hair or nuzzling his neck
even when I could feel no gentleness in return.
I sang love songs in his presence and invited him to join me
though I knew it would take time to win those words back.
I slept open and vulnerable, my heart cracked wide
as it never gave up trying to scale his wall.
I loved him fearlessly and fully
even when it hurt
even when it felt hopeless

...and I still do.