Tender Kisses on my Forehead.

Something beautiful happened to me.

And then I broke it.

We are miles apart until I am in his arms--his toxic, crushing embrace.

I am small and insecure and timid and scared when he is away and too intoxicated by the nectar of his touch when we're together to ask him why he let me break us. For those sweet precious minutes his arms, his hands, his lips are the tape that masks together my crushed and shattered spirit. Those minutes of a taped up existence are infinitely more beautiful than me without him entirely.

Aren't they?

The blade of this pain, carefully carving its way to my heart is worth it.

Isn't it?

Funny thing is before you kissed me, you told me you were frightened of hurting me. I should have been the one afraid.