He said he loves how I put the pictures up on my wall, nice and neat. He said he loves how I always ask him to drive his car even when I know the answer. He said he loves the way my hips are, how when he touches me he could feel my bones. He said he loves how I wear his things, and take them home. He said he loves the way I ignore him when he plays Pokemon on his Nintendo. He said he loves the way I will always go out to eat with him. He said he loves the fact that he goes to these concerts and how I’m not jealous, more happy for him. He said he loves that I got an interest from Star Wars solely because of him. He said he loves the way when I go to pick music I go for the artist, not the track. He said he loves the way I hold his hand in the car and I let go when he was turning and go right back to holding his hand. He said he loves the way I mooch of his food when he was low, and how he could’ve “died.” He said he loves how I use his diabetes for my mom to get out of places quicker, he thinks it’s funny. He loves how I’ll make him food when he is low. He said he loves the way I sing. He said he loves the way I sound when I am tired. He said he loves the way I forget, sometimes.

Corrected, loved.

It’s not vice versa. I love him more. I let him in when I slammed the door shut every time people tried to open the door. When I looked at him at that moment, all I could see was pain. I held him, I kissed his forehead when he told me he couldn’t do this. It made me regret letting him in because then and there I still loved him. I held him when he said he never wanted to hurt me. Tears fell down my face onto his nose with the beauty mark. He didn’t try to hold me the way he used to. He didn’t try to kiss my cheek to calm me down. He walked away. I’m still here.

I love the way his lips look like no matter when I look at him, plump. I love the way his voice sounds when he would call me beautiful, it would roll of his tongue. I love how he tried kissing me that first time and he was so nervous. I love his laugh, it’s one that makes you so happy regardless if you know him. I love the way he looks at me when I am undressed and how he could do this for the rest of his life. I love how he makes me feel safe whether I’m home alone or doubting myself. I love him. Not loved him, love him. I can’t say the same for how he feels. He loved me. I’m here, I exist. I love you, always.