I’m thankful it was only a fracture.

Yes even though it felt like an eternity to heal. I carried the bruises with me like a warrior; I had to; my picture of love then was a battlefield. Your inconsistency was humiliating, but I kept clinging and hoping for reassurance. I’m very selective now; back then, I voluntarily chose pain if there was a chance it was linked to love. I let go of my morals when I became fluent in choosing empty promises. I hoarded the beautiful moments. My vision became blurry when my heart’s language wasn’t matched. My soft heart didn’t deserve to be stained with your freak version of love. I craved a connection so tender that you seemed to taint with your chaotic ways. Your conviction still haunts me, but the lessons are embedded deep inside me and attainable when I need them to resurface, to remind myself to never settle for the echoes of your freak potential ever again.