i remember myself before love ruined me. i had so much innocence etched into my being, my insides, my out. i was a hummingbird. a dove even. a sweet thing. orchids in my eyes and in my breast.
youth and courage. i was a warm loving body. unbruised and eager.
what is a ruined thing? does it shrivel and turn black, even watered and left out in the sun? yes.
i am that thing. with memories that grate and claw. love ruined me. it was a soft dull ache that eventually grew teeth. nostalgia that stings.
i am restless. heavy. warmth has abandoned me. it left me on loves raging shore, salted and stinging. i am but a seed in fiery abandoned soil. the feather that falls from an evil crow.
love has ruined me. to where i loath the wisdom that settled on me like dust. i did not know how deep wounds of grief could be. i did not know the lines between innocence and complete ruin could be so thin.