you loved a boy  
and he loved you  
though he had loved before  
or at least, had thought himself to love before,
this was wholly of a different kind

the love he had before didn’t feel like this.
true, it had started off with heat and sweaty hands,  
as most loves do,  
but then it lost its brightness and became cold,  
something that ate away at the boy  
and however much the boy offered  
it took and took  
and never gave  
and wasn’t soft or kind

so the boy was left broken  
in more ways than he ever told,
in more ways than he even understood.  

but then you loved a boy,  
a boy who was broken  

and you were good, and beautiful, and true,
and your voice sang a love song that was only for him,  
and your touch made him fear that his heart would break
in the most wonderful way

and the boy loved the girl  
completely  

this love was warm and soft  
and air and breath and life and  
more  

all the boy wanted was to be
consumed by the girl  
just to be closer to her  
so that he was never apart  

and then it was gone.  

and the boy was confused  
because this love hadn’t changed,  
it hadn’t grown dim or dark,  
it was soft and full and fire  
and gone…

and it could not be the girl  
because she loved the boy,  
she had told him
In her honey whispers late into the night.  
the boy knew her words were true  
because she was good and true  
and because she had saved the boy  

then she was gone.  

and the boy was left more broken than before,  
the only thing left in the boys heart  
was the horrible thought, that perhaps  
he was not worthy of love;  
and it was horrible,  
because I believed it to be true