love watched as I climbed trees
wrote me a book of poetry
(that called me a whore
and compared me to my mother)

love had a British accent
took photos of me all the time
(especially after he’d made me cry
he said I was “still” beautiful)

love drove me through the desert
bought me trinkets from a gift shop
(then threatened he would hurt himself
and it would be my fault)

love was passionately intimate
stayed up all night with me
(when I wanted to be alone
and blamed me for his lack of sleep)

love wanted to know everything
and everyone I kept around
(this he proved by going through my things
while I was out of town)

love sought to save me from myself
told me to get the proper help
(then stopped going to therapy
and started taking pills himself)

love held me tightly to him
said he would never let me go
(because I didn’t know how to function
outside of his control)

love had exactly what I wanted
what I looked for in a man
(before I learned that healthy love
would never look like him)