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“We’re broken,” I whisper. His other hand finds the side of my neck and he cradles me as though I’m precious. A choked sob rattles from me. “We’re not broken,” he assures me despite the way his voice trembles. “We’re just cracked. All we need is a little glue. We’ll be good as new.”
I’m going to fuck this man. Or, he’s going to fuck me. Someone is getting fucked.
The Lord preaches love. Unconditional love at that. How are people supposed to love unconditionally if they are judging others for whom they love? They
can’t. So love is love and that’s what God wants.”
He never wanted to fix me. He just wanted to hold all the broken parts of me so I wouldn’t lose myself.
