“Don’t burn all your bridges down,” he warns her. “You won’t have anyone left to turn to.”
“I’ll still have you, won’t I?” Her words slurred with pain or too much beer, he doesn’t know. “You always come running back even when I make your life miserable.
You can’t stay away from me.”
He wished he could tell her she was wrong.
A loveless love, a convenient love, an after dark, occasional weekend away kind of love. It’s a love I like, a love I love.
Don’t pity me because I have love at arm’s length. This love gives me a radius of love in abundance, a love for whichever direction I choose to face, a love suited to match whichever feeling, want, and need that I’d like in any moment.
A nameless love, quiet, waiting in the shadows. A keycard love, a backseat love, a £3 a minute love. A judgeless love. A let’s tell all our secrets, turn the sound off, be present, kind of love.
A love where I can be the best version of me, the version of me you like, the version of me you love.