What We Wouldn't Say Aloud

Well loved

The first time we agreed to meet up you gave me a chocolate bar and I held onto it so tight and for so long in my palms that by the time I got home it had melted. I couldn't salvage the sweet so instead I kept the wrapper tucked away in my drawer.

The next time we met you brought me flowers. And I hurried home and placed them on my dresser in direct light and watered them every day, until they drowned.

The third time we met you gave me a book and I analyzed the fuck out of it. I highlighted and circled each chapter, trying so desperately to find out what parts you liked about it. I wondered what made you laugh, what words made you cry and if I could find anything more out about you by reading between the lines.

And when I went to return it I handed you back the dog eared collection of pages, barley bound by their spine, and said
"I'm so sorry"
and you replied
"It's okay, it is just well loved."

I loved everything you gave me until it was unusable. And it reminds me of how when a child wears out a stuffy or blanket for too long we say it's just well loved. I look at the way that people love things and how it's often almost always paired with distraction and I wonder if it's possible to separate the two. I'm scared. Scared of becoming well loved.

I want to be loved well. To be cuddled and snuggled and kissed and smothered. I want to feel loved. And I want to love well too.

I'm not afraid of commitment, or let's grow old together. I want the smile lines and wrinkles that come along with love and old age.

I am not afraid of being loved well. But I'm afraid of being well loved.

What if part of loving is giving my heart and what if you scribble all over it but once you understand my story you decide to put it down? What if I melt in your palm and when I have no more sweets to give you decide you don't want what's left over? What if you pour out so much love that I drown and what if I'm not able to save me when you do so?

And what if I leave you well loved? What if my consistent turns to clingy? What if my sharing becomes over bearing?What if I wear you down instead of out?

They say I should love you to death but I'd rather love you in life. I want to grow a garden of flowers together. I want to build a fireplace to sit and read our books upon. I want to hand out candy and chocolate at Halloween together. I want to be loved well but I do not want to be left well loved and I worry I don't know the difference.