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Everyday you tell me how much you need me,
how much you love me, and yet somehow,
you still manage to leave me scared and broken.
Your voice is sometimes what I fall asleep to at night.
The sweet serenity of it is warming to my heart.
"You're the most perfect person for me."
"You're so beautiful."
Both comments I strive for,
but usually you're words break my heart and crush my soul.
Your touch is sometimes what I carve.
So soft, so gentle, so sensual, so pleasant. 
When you put your hands on my neck, 
when you rub my legs,
even when you caress my cheek.
I get chills and want more.
But most of the time you hit me and leave bruises present in visible places. 
Your kisses I desire every minute of everyday.
The way your lips feel against mine,
tender and sincere. 
The way they could make me feel so loved.
Even though sometimes your kisses are too rough and painful.
I wonder how our love can even be called just that.
I hate you most days and when I don't hate you, 
I wonder when you'll snap. 
If love was supposed to feel like this,
no one would ever try.
And that's what I do.
I try. 
I try all the time to forgive the things you've done to me.
To forget every time you called me horrible names,
To forgive every time you smacked me and made me bleed or bruise, 
I try to forget the times you told me how worthless I was and how no one could ever love me.
I don't understand what I did to deserve this torture.
All I've ever done is love you, desire you, care for you.
Every time you hurt me, I forgot about it and forgave you.
I forgave you because of the way I truly love you.
I love you like the stars light the night sky, bright and never wavering. 
I love you a million times the temperature of the sun.
The love I have for you is forever and ever more.
I would love you through anything.
Even the abusive I put up with for you.
I'm always disregarding the extremities you throw at me.
But if you love, as you say you do?
Why?
Why do you treat me so?
Why do you agonize me?
Why don't you always show that love?
Why do you scream at me?
Why do you curse at me?
Because you love me, right?
I don't want to be sick all the time.
Broken hearted and in anguish.
Worried and fearful.
Happy and sad.
But most of all, I don't want to be in love and in hate.
So forgive me for leaving you,
for packing my things, 
my memories,
the ones I want to remember.
My good days, very few.
My soul, hardly in tact.
And my heart, in pieces.
I will always love you, but I'm done being scared and broken.
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