There was a time when I invested all I had in someone. I loved everything about her. I loved the shape of her body. I loved her small hands against mine, the way her lips moved when she spoke, how her eyebrows scrunched when she was angry, the way she smelled, the way she held me. Any imperfections she had, I loved them too. I never took advantage of her vulnerability or wanted her to feel insecure with me. I did everything I could to ease her pain, to support her, to care for her. But in the end, no matter how much I did for her, it wasn’t enough.
