I wanted to hate you.

When I first met you, I wanted to hate you.

I wanted to hate you so bad.

I wanted to hate your smirk.

I wanted to hate your ocean blue eyes.

I wanted to hate your dark brown hair that, no matter how much you combed it, still was a mess.

I wanted to hate the way you held me through thunderstorms.

I wanted to hate the way you laughed.

I wanted the hate the way you looked at me.

I wanted you to stop.

But you didn’t stop.

You kept doing it.

You made me love it.

You made me do the same to you.

You made me feel warm.

You made me feel safe.

You made me feel wanted.

We were perfect, for a while.

No problems.

Perfect.

I thought we would be perfect forever.

I thought.

That thought shattered the moment you took it too far.

You used me.

You manipulated me.

You told me you would be there when I came out. You promised me.

You lied.

You left me to rot.

I paid for your mistakes.

Then you came back two years later. You said you were sorry.

I forgave you.

Then you broke me again.