You are a massive fuckwit…
for even thinking that you are not good enough.
I should be,
saying this to you.
You are intelligent.
Not smart enough for psychology?
Then why do you know my tells?
How did you learn them so quickly,
and through text even?
“I’m not trained.”
I, however, am in training,
and it looks like you’re learning through osmosis, love.
You are a kind soul.
If you weren’t,
our paths would have never crossed.
We’d be running parallel,
never tumbling to the ground in a head-on collision,
and never deciding to hang around and talk,
even after making sure the other was okay.
You are a patient man.
You, one of the few, picked up every shard of a broken woman,
without a second thought.
And when she hurt you,
when those shards pierced your flesh,
more than once,
You held on.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
The woman cried;
you took every fragmented piece of her for who she was.
You are the better.
“You deserve better.”
You fucking muppet.
Your words were a punch straight to the chest;
I couldn’t breathe.
Two reasons you gave me—
I shut them both down in four minutes.
I would have only needed two had I not been typing.
You are my better.
I’d never found my better here,
because it is currently seven time zones,
and an entire ocean away.
They say every person has their perfect match,
a single person out of 7.4 billion,
and what if we’ve found our’s?
You are too good for me.
How did I,
little ball of crazy meet you?
despite making you bleed far too many times,
You are my better,
and for reasons I have yet to comprehend,
I am your better.
Usstan che dos.
Я люблю тебя.