In my head I caught a break.
You carefully handmade a box perfect enough to house all my insecurities as you scratched them off my list and molded me into new. You were my realtor.
You fucked me in places that I was afraid to call home, and I still found solitude in you.
As I look at the lot where they plan to build, I’m picturing the most beautiful foundation. My expectations grab me by the hand and I can imagine how put-together this home will be with the help of my blueprint and perceptions.
As time went by, and the house was finished I stood at the front doorway as I would at an alter. Nervous and anxious because this was a new life for me, and once I turn the key, I am one with this place as I would be with you.
As I step over the door step, I’m immediately disappointed. Kind of like I am with you.
I sat down and laid out my expectations and the foundation I wanted and just like a politician you trumped your way into making me believe that you’d make me great again and I allowed it.
Realizing that your first 100 days in my heart were only to reel me in and break me in half when it took me so long to become whole again.
So now here I am, in the empty home of what could have been love as you’re on your way to signing another client.