when he reads to me

I loved him from the beginning.

In the middle.

But maybe not at the end.

His love for me was full of possibilities, hopes, and dreams a girl like me wasn’t accustomed to.

He was a nightmare that cracked and bled through my hands, and I stood there watching as it seeped into the ground.

Until him.

He put me back together.

Without even knowing he was doing so.

And he wasn’t even my husband.