And you my dear, will always be my aftermath of loss and love

You and I will always be unfinished business. There are too many words unsaid, too many thoughts unfeltand too many feelings unexpressed.

When I told him, 'I break everything I touch', he said he would break his own heart and use those pieces to fix mine. Is this too good to be true? Is this just my fantasy of him? or is this actually real?

The only question I ask myself is: did we teach each other the meaning of love for ourselves or someone else?

Because even after you swore you weren’t like the other, I didn’t realise you meant you were worse.

But had we become so awfully used to this love because it was the only kind of love we thought existed? What if love was supposed to be easier and not only be about 'fighting through the hard times and the dark clouds'? And what if there weren't supposed to be this many dark clouds and what if love was not supposed to be this hard?