I met him and was quickly swept off my feet.
He secretly became the muse to all my poetry.

Melting my frozen heart was no easy task, but he first held it as though it were made of glass.

I couldn't get enough of his allure, his intellect that sarcastically witty charm. I found myself wanting to be the woman on his arm.

Months after months, day after day, it was too late, I was irrevocably in love with him in every way.

His talent grew beyond measure. I could hardly wait to read his stories and his visions yet to be discovered.

He made me feel things I had never felt, things I haven't in such a long time. He made me feel alive.

I became a woman who wanted to do anything for this man. Somehow I could be there for him or help in anyway that I can.

But then like they say, "too good to be true"
Something changed, I'd try to point it out..
god I didn't want it to!

There wasn't anymore playfulness, no more pictures or flirting. I felt like the man I fell for shut me out, no longer wanted me in all those ways and it was hurting.

It made me question myself, did I do something wrong? When I started to question his feelings, the words of reassurance became repetitive all his sweet meaning had gone.

I started to feel like the only conversations worth having with me was when he needed something.
I'd say how I felt about him or how I missed him only to receive me too responses.

I cried and tried when I needed it to be more.
I poured my heart out hoping I was worth a fight.
That he'd clear my head of doubts and pick up my heart from the floor.

Instead, I was shown the bitter hard cold truth.
That after all this time, after everything, I meant absolutely nothing to him and there wasn't a damn thing I could do.

He said he wouldn't leave, but he chose to walk away. I'm left shattered. My heart broken left waiting for the fight that won't happen and longing to hear the things he will never say.