The people we love are thieves.
They steal our hearts. They steal our breath.
They steal our sanity.
And we let them.
Over and over and over again.
They say you never forget your first time.
Mine was with a homeless musician who effed my brains out under a bridge.
He was my first love. And sixteen years later, I still can’t get him out of my head.
He broke all my rules.
He also broke my heart.
I watched him climb to stardom, cheering him on from afar.
But I was never a fan; just a girl in love.
Like a tornado, he spiraled, leaving a path of destruction in his wake.
But love conquers all, right? It has to. Because here I stand, ravaged and ruined, needing it to be true.
You can’t go back, but I want to. Back to the bridge. Back to when he sang only for me. Before he was famous. Before he shattered my heart.
I thought I knew everything about him.
But I could not have been more wrong.
He promised me every tomorrow. And here I am, waiting.