I've always loved too easily.

My eyes would well with tears at even a hint of rejection,
my lips would quiver with a single push away.
I was attachable to anyone.
I would hang my life from incapable hands just to watch myself slip through wide open fingers.

Maybe I'd always done this to myself.
Maybe I wanted to hit the ground in the name of love.
Maybe that's all I ever deserved.

One broken heart.
One broken skull.

You, however.

I did not love you easily.

I loved you in confusion in the dead of night,
when my thoughts of him would become thoughts of you,
when the large warm arms around me weren't right at all.
I loved you in silence.
In a quiet whisper of smooth jealousy for the gloves that you wore.
How dare anything warm your hands but my own?
I loved you in a way that I did not notice until I caught glimpses of you,
the way your laugh seemed to crack open windows,
the way your grin smashed through doors.
Breaking down a comfortable home full of self destruction,
I loved you in a way that smashed apart the self-centred kind of love that I knew so well.

Now I love you simply.
I love you not for what I am to you,
not for how hard you can throw me,
or how much pain you can cause to remind me of the life that flows through my veins,
but for what you are to me.

Gorgeous,
caring,
intelligent,
witty,
unique,
beautiful,
flawed
perfection.