Oh, how I loved him.

I wrote poems of my love for him.

I made art in testament to my devotion.

I honored him to the best of my ability

Until I just couldn’t do it any longer.

Blank looks

Or no response

Or “It’s good. I like it.”

No matter what I did.

Never more.

At times, I would yell or scream

Desperate for ANY reaction.

Stonewalled.

But, oh, how I loved him.

I believed that if I loved him

(As he couldn’t through mine)

Through his obvious depression

Eventually, the man I loved so dearly,

Would return.

If…

I just loved him for a little longer,

A little harder, a little bit stronger,

The man who gave me the stars

(He really did name a star for me),

I would experience the intimate devotion

That I adored when he loved me back.

I loved him with everything I knew

And, for him, it was not enough.

I was too much for him.

I was not enough for him.

I was not worth the effort.

I was too much effort.

But, after I had come from the darkest place I’d ever been,

Love from him was blatantly and obviously absent.

While I had his love near my heart,

I loved him with all my being.

I can forgive myself for believing

In the love I KNOW we shared.

Oh, how deeply I loved him.