To Fall In Love With Doubt

This poem is my first attempt at something close to spoken word, and is my first edit as well.

Love.
Love is…irrefutable.
Love, love the entity in my chest, in my bones
The transparency that love is
But no love is the same,
no,
yours, different.

You spoke those words to me as you lived them with someone else
someone else, worthy enough of the bond,
worthy enough of your actions,

someone, who understood why you declared those words to me,
me, because i was fragile,
pitiful,
worth words at best
but not worth the truth.

I would have never underestimated your love for me,
never stirred the pot because of the undying love you paraded to me
in a way that left me doubtless for years.
that let me feel safe, even when I walked your streets alone
let me feel that you were all I would need in a partner.

Doubt was never a feeling that resided within my conscious
Doubt, never filled the void inhabited by my longing for you
received, indefinitely
Doubt, doubt a thing that comes with ‘this isn’t working’
‘I can’t do this’
‘I’m leaving you’
‘I don’t love you’
Doubt, when you don’t use these words
Doubt, a feeling of anxiety over how to come to terms,
Alone.

And as I waited to give you my innocence,
as you waited for me for a years time,
waiting,
not knowing impatience because our love was as physical as any could have been

And when we did fall for one another,
hundreds of days after our first goodbye,
while you lived this love with her
the love we made,
not love at all,
but a bond of two pitiful souls, destined for deceit.
Deceit you created,
deceit you garnered underneath a cloud of dishonesty, a cloud of distrust,
a cloud of dissonance between our once perfectly tuned souls
deceit I had no part of,
deceit; I will stop telling myself I led you to,
deceit; I will stop yelling to myself at night because I instigated it,
deceit; I will stop discussing with my therapist was birthed from the catalyst of my scattered past,
deceit, masked by what you think is best for me

but I have not given you the rights to how I feel.
That is one thing love cannot do for any soul.
you have no authority over my conscious,
over my newfound doubt,
over how many times you are allowed to take me for granted,
to play me as a fool,
to create me as a lowly, sad, unsatisfied soul,
to mold me into a fallback
when I have not fallen at all,
when those are all the things I am not made of.

To think that we will never sync up again,
after countless times of sincere ‘I’m sorry’s
forgiven, forgotten,
to live a life together.
To only picture myself with you in our old age
now requires me to vomit up my hatred of those pictures in my head.

When you uttered ‘I love you’ before we parted
Doubt filled my mind,
But one thing I did not mull over,
Was that my love for you had died.

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