I loved him for who he was.
Accepted his past, present, and future.
I loved his smile, his laugh, the way he held my hand.
I loved the love he had for God,
Or at least the love I thought he had.
He told me he loved me,
He even told me that he wanted to marry me.
But now I know, looking back, that it was just a game.
He was always distant, and for the longest time that was accepted.
Though he said he wanted to marry me,
I couldn't help but wonder: Does he really love me or the idea of me?
I think I smothered him with love.
I think I talked about myself too much.
I probably made him seem insignificant,
Though he was the reason I loved at all.
I loved his flaws.
The acne, the chipped tooth, and the long bathroom times.
I dealt with his dysfunctional family,
And didn't let his mother trample me.
I saw the way his family treated him.
His sister was the Golden Child,
and he was just the Forgotten One.
He was pushed and pushed,
Always pushed to do more.
I loved him...
I would have married him.
But he didn't love me.
No, he didn't love me at all.
He said “My mom said that everything is about you,
So I don't think we should see each other anymore.”
I looked at him in shock, knowing what he meant.
I couldn't breathe. I backed away from him and asked for him to call my father to pick me up.
This was the end.
After eleven months of loving him,
I realized that my love wasn't reciprocated.
I realized that he would have rather had his mothers' affections than mine.
Thrice he apologized, not daring to take a step towards me.
Twice he left the room,
And once he waved his final good bye.
A few months later,
I wrote him a letter of apology.
I even made my own envelope.
After five drafts and many tears,
I folded the letter and put it in the homemade envelope.
Nervous, I had my friend stuff it in his locker.
I don't know if he read it, or even opened it,
But I do know that I never got a reply.
Today, I look at him and still can't breathe.
I see him in the hallway, and cat my eyes to floor.
I want to help him see,
That God is the only one who can love him in the ways that I, nor his mother, could not.
He was my first love.
He will not be my last, but he will always be my first.
If he ever needs me,
I will be there.
Our relationship wasn't perfect,
But he showed me what love was and what it was not.
To him I will be forever thankful,
My first love,
My first heartbreak.