Love you like I know I shouldn’t


I’ve experienced a lifetime of abandonment.
Men walked into my life just as fast as they left.
Father figures blew kisses, locked with lies, masked as promises, telling me, ‘don’t worry, I’ll be back.’
So when you walk into my life, and I let myself, unwillingly, and painfully love you; love you like I know I shouldn’t.
I tense, and I reel, and I lock myself up inside so I don’t have to feel the foreboding sense of pain.
When you tell me you’ll be back. And everything I know, everything that I’ve ever known, tells me that you won’t.