Interminable

It was endless.
The words I could find in my mind to describe your beauty.
My desire to present to the world the light I had found inside you.
My determination to paint you in the way you looked best next to me. 
It was effortless.
To love even the not so perfect parts.
To love you in every single way.
To care for you felt natural.
To nurture you only felt right.
I could count the hairs on your head forever, completely in bliss.
Obsessed with every detail.
Every curve.
Every inch.
To be in your arms the first time, was a dream come true.
To feel your chest pressed against mine once more, was a miracle.
To say goodbye was to feel a pain that did not make sense.
336 hours I gave to you.
For 336 hours, it seemed you had no interest in anything.
What is it to enjoy pain?
Having to listen to the words you carefully chose to hurt me.
To look back into your eyes as you towered over me.
All in your attempts to reclaim the power I know you felt was stolen from you. 
I saw right through everything, every action, every insult, every remark.
Every night you didn’t hold me
Every time I ate alone. 
I still served you.
I still tried to hold you.
I would’ve let you hurt me had it made you feel better.
But that isn’t love.
And obsession isn’t flattering.
And sex doesn’t make me feel close to you anymore. 
It used to be endless.
The amount of time we used to spend on the phone together. 
The days that you were all I could think about.
Loving you, used to feel right. 
It made me feel warm inside. 
The thought of us together brought me peace.
I hope somewhere, somehow, that you find your peace.
I hope one day someone will be able to keep you warm. 
The way the thought of loving you did for me. 
Before it ended. 
-TW