Vulnerable; that's how it began. They tell you to let things go, to love free and open. Then, I started to feel naked. Violated. Exposed. Stripped down. Uncovered. Nothing was sacred anymore. My demons were your demons, and your dreams were my dreams. Shared hopes, shared grief. Two became one. But what happens to me when you leave?
If you get down to it, all we are is bone. Skeletally identical underneath, kept alive by a pulse. I'm not a romantic, but even I concede that the heart does not exist solely for the purpose of pumping blood. I wanted it -- oh, I wanted it so badly. To be so intertwined with someone that you believe it is their love, their spirit that keeps your blood circulating, through your arteries and your veins from your head to your toes. I wanted to believe that there was something greater keeping us alive, something magic.
I kept staring at the x-ray, waiting for something magic to appear. But all I saw were skin and bones, dark and unwavering and ever so lonely.
there were things I wanted to tell him
but I knew they would hurt him
so I buried them, and let them hurt me