Here's the thing
I loved him first
I really did - boldly, undoubtedly (fearfully)
I loved him with a piece of me I didn't know I had

Here's the other thing
Maybe he loved me back (he did)
Maybe he wasn't all sunset smiles and blue summer eyes
But maybe we could have been happy

But the truth is that we didn't-
We weren't-
We never will-

I have seen his face in a thousand sunsets
Met his eyes in a thousand skies
And while I've come to the realization of living  without him,
That old scar on my chest still bleeds (and bleeds and bleeds)

The thing about the unrequited
The thing about the unfulfilled
Is that it almost would have been better to have crashed and burned
Maybe I wouldn't miss him then

I guess you’re back again,
Hoping to waltz back into my heart
Like you never left it shattered
Or made me doubt my own worth
What makes you think I’ll fall for you again?

Is it the way I let your hands
Rest on my waist for a little too long?
Or how I tried to look away?
The fact that we see each other every weekend?
Or that I smile so wide at the sight of you?

The truth is I can’t, I won’t, I haven’t
Fallen for you again
How could I when I never truly hated you?
I never fell out of love with you
Everything you put me through and
I still made an excuse to love you

You can’t fall back in love with someone
If you never fell out and I hate you for that

I'm a firm believer that you never truly stop loving your first  true love. 

My first true love, she was beautiful. 

She was beautiful after she had danced under the stars and the moon, finally letting herself be free. 

She was beautiful with wind blown hair and sparkling,
mirth filled eyes as we laughed at some joke. 

She was beautiful in the way she walked,
with the sassy swing of her hips. 

She was beautiful in the way she talked,
the sound of her voice was like music to my ears. 

She was beautiful in the way she smiled, the genuine smile that she barely showed anyone,
the one that she said only I ever noticed wasn't forced. 

She was beautiful in the way she laughed,
that hearty laugh that made me so happy. 

She was beautiful in the way she cared for everyone important to her, even if it meant sacrificing her own happiness. 

She was beautiful in the way she cried, because when she cried in my arms,
it meant she trusted me enough to see her like that. 

She was beautiful in the way she smelled, her scent was sweet, something I could only describe as the source of my peace. 

She was beautiful, in the way she loved wholeheartedly,
even if I never truly noticed it for my own foolishness. 

And she is beautiful as she tries to fight the illness that threatens to take her life, even if the only reason she decided to live, was for others.




©Words of a withering soul

You are my first love
The one that God sent from above
You are my last love
The one I asked of

I am your first
I gave you the love that eased your thirst
I was your last
The loud melody that moved your music into blast

You were my first
My last
I was your first
But never your last