when sylvia plath wrote ‘please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. there are times when i will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand’ I felt that
i love you, in ways you've never been loved, for reasons you've never been told, for longer than you think you deserved and with more than you will ever know existed inside me.
filled with pain and unwanted resentment. you wish to be made of love but you are not; you are pieces of a child held together by regret and rage, begging to fall apart.
@artsmble So, my love. Let's meet again in thirty days, carrying the same love, the same yearning, and the same quiet promise to choose each other, all over again.
I love you.