Circle of love

Part III

Part III- CAGED HEARTS

I meet a boy. He says I have the prettiest smile in the world. He tells me that I'm the only girl he has ever opened up to. He tells me about his dreams and hopes and aspirations. I like listening to him. He smells of comfort and home. He always says the right things. He's not clumsy, he's confident in his stride and he likes the skin he's in. I envy him sometimes.

He's unapologetic, he's loud and he's the life of the party. He's all the good parts of a boy that has now become a distant memory. He runs his fingers over my scars and makes a painting of a butterfly on it. Artists have a way of viewing the world differently, I guess.

He tells me that he thinks he might love me. I laughed, an uneasy feeling settling in my chest. Love is for fools, dreamers that believe that the world is all unicorns and rainbows. How could he be so foolish, to fall in love with someone who has already caged her heart away?

He calls me at 3 am, letting me know I'm in his thoughts. I do not respond, even though I'm wide awake.

He insists I eat on time, lest I fall sick again. I do not tell him that I'm terrified of a different kind of falling.

He tells me that he's always there for me, and proves it repeatedly. I watch him with a smile, waiting for the day he leaves.

He likes it when I talk to him about my life. I let him scratch the surface and let him believe he knows me best.

He likes the songs I recommend him to listen. I do not tell him that I haven't heard most of them myself.

He can recite my order at McDonald's off the tip of his tongue. I do not tell him how disgusted I am by French fries.

He buys me cards and flowers and chocolates and a teddy bear. I throw everything away, repulsed by the thought of a teddy bear.

He insists that he would always make me happy. I wonder what magic potion he has, to do miracles that I haven't been able to achieve myself.

He keeps giving me reasons why we would be good together. I nod but never agree.

He tells me that I am cruel to lead him on like this. I shake my head, "Did I ask you to bring me the moon and the stars?"

He tells me that he's tired of waiting for me. I watch him leave, slipping through my fingers like sand.

I sent him one last message, two months and three weeks ago.

I'm sorry. You deserve better.