He’s broken, but I am too.
We shared this broken, pieced-together, explosive and magical love. It was never easy, but to me, it was always worth it.
In the end, I realize I can’t be the one to fix you.
Even though I would let myself die just for the chance to.
You watched with sadness in your eyes as I tried to muster up more and more.
But I could never fill your cup—no matter how much of myself I poured
You are nothing like the rest.
I could never take away your pain with a mere kiss.
And as many times as I have tried to introduce myself—I know I must resist.
Feeling safe means keeping it just below the surface.
If anger were temperature—your body would be a damn furnace.
I can’t fix you; and I find myself at a loss for how to help.
Just to thaw you enough so you can feel the same things I felt.
You are scarred, and that’s a piece of you.
I can’t fix you, but that doesn’t mean I want something new.
Author: Emily Cutshaw
Image: Flickr/Per Gosche
Editor: Caitlin Oriel