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love is coming in waves. saturated with hate, jealousy, and humility. i can feel it happening again. he tells me it's just one of my moods. i say it's more. alone. i'm left to my own devices, and, assuming the worst (like always) i go mad. hell is not below me anymore. i'm not in control of it anymore. but i mustn't blame him. we have created the perfect atmosphere for love's cruelty. maybe first loves are never meant to last. maybe they are stepping stones to better days. lessons learned the hard way. i've loved him so forcefully, so rash, i could never love another man this way. never with the same rawness. he has come, and when i watch him go i will know he is the last of his kind. 

my tender man could never last.
 
i made him the sun and i swore that no one could take him from me. i should have known that making him the light would attract bugs. traps were set and pests were caught. i pulled the carcasses from the sticky strips and brought them straight to him. he denied and lied and said the bodies weren't real, and that i was the only lady bug he'd seen. quietly, the infestation grew and i knew it wasn't in my head. while he slept, i found the crumbs he left behind. all along, silently feeding the same bugs who were tearing us apart. the bugs excited him, or so i've been told. they mean nothing to him, or so i've been told. just something to help his boredom pass, or so i've been told.. he told his friends he wanted to move to brazil, and see all of the beautiful butterflies they had to offer. i'm still here, defeated, left to mourn a love unfought for, stuck questioning how i ever thought one lady bug would be enough.

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