When I Think of a Broken Heart

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Loving you was nice

but it's a new day

a new season

Sweet, you were, like vials of melted chocolate pressed to my temples and the hollow of my neck like precious perfume. I used to sweat you out of my pores, and take you in again when you held me close.

Loving you was nice because you were my twin, my confidante and the only thing that separated us from being related was blood, for that, I was thankful.

Smooth pebbles under my feet, as I padded through shallow water so clear that I could see the Truth and I thought it was you. That's how you made me feel. You made me feel like I could walk through Georgia without any shoes on. I could travel from state to country and all the way back again with your hand in mine. Two vagrants alone in the dark world. I wanted to be wholly alone with you. I wanted to forget the world and live for you, only for you, because I stupidly loved you.

But it's a new day, and you're not here, in fact, I don't think you've ever been here. I created this image of you, this facade of a genteel man. I went to sleep dreaming about you, I love strange things, I love things that society is against and I loved you for being so different.

I showed you around proudly. No light skinned man for me! I had a  dark skin man with luminescent eyes, pillow soft lips and a small but sturdy frame.

You were my Dark brown sugar, my escape into the darkness, my blanket of onyx , my body pillow, my friend--If only, for a little while.

But I was stupid, and you knew it.

I was in love with someone who never existed, and you knew it.

I had these dreams, these pre-pubescent dreams of our wedding, our little girl with skin so dark that it was nearly black. She would have soft cotton hair, big eyes, smooth dark skin, a ready smile and a soft voice. Our house would have been somewhere close by, somewhere your family could come when they wanted to visit you and our little baby. I dreamed of big Sunday dinners, taking tips from your mother on how to keep you in check and happy at the same time.

And I knew it was going to take a while to get there, that I wasn't your ideal women, but if I worked hard I could be.

Loving you was nice, and I hate to say it, but those were the best moments of love that i've ever felt, even though they were not real.

You knew all along how fragile I was, how easy to please I was, how I wanted everyone to like me, and how I desperately wanted you to love me.

I was desperate for your love, not because I was pathetic, or desperate--it was because I'd found temporary happiness in you. Because I was alone and I was sad and depressed and hopeless and you came on your horse of tin with your corny jokes and deep voice and peculiarities, I fell in love.

Now, I don't know what love is, but when I think of a broken heart, I think of you. I think of you and everything that keeps me from being happy. And I just want to be happy, if not again, then, for the first time in my entire life.

And I don't want to feel strange when a guy flirts with me, or when a guy tells me he loves me, or when a guy reaches out to embrace me.

I want to feel normal.

But I can't because of you.

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