I once fell in love with a boy who wasn't sure of himself and didn't want to be loved by me- or by anyone. Writing is my outlet and what I want to keep posting to help those around me if they've ever been in the same situation- so here's a poem I wrote about the man who was unlovable.
The person I loved was not a human being.
He was a car crash wrapped in pretty skin and prominent bones. His mouth kissed almost as many girls as cigarettes, and his hands grasps more blades than a set of fingers. He ripped his thorax before he could even tear out his heart. Bloodied lines were crimson tally marks for each time his step-father turned into the monsters he used to read about. Exquisite wood carved between darkened and dilated pupils resembled the shadows that swallowed me entirely. He always said he loved the darkness- not because there was no light, but because it was black, just black. He loved it more than he could ever love me. The scariest part was that he loved it so much, he enveloped himself in it and he became it. Even then, he was my love, my dance partner; the one that waltzed in and out of my life repeatedly. Step here, step there; step in, step out. When he takes a step back, you never see it as a movement, you see it as a threat that he will leave. When he grasps your hand between his and pulls you close, he won't whisper alluring secrets of how much he adores you, he'll end up telling you all the ways he will break you; and he does. He breaks you into so many pieces that you find them scattered all over the places you once loved him. Where you first heard his voice, your bed sheets, where he laid with you and told you he knew you loved him, but he could never love you. Now, whenever I look at him I do not see a human being, I see someone I could've loved forever but broke me before I could even think about doing so.