an open letter to the boys who leave

"you can't make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love"
––warsan shire

I'm sorry about the broken shards of your heart, shattered glass and spilt blood on the linoleum floor the only sign that there was any type of struggle here after the man who killed my aunt is the same one who stole your soul and hope for normalcy. I shouldn't have left you in the dark to fend for yourself even though we're both aware that you're fully capable of it. That is why I cried when you forgave me, why the tides changed when you refused to leave my side regardless of the past.

I'm sorry I didn't say I'm in love with you when I knew I was. I'm sorry I waited and made you sit through all those pointless phone calls I made from France since I really didn't have anything to tell you about my trip, but I dialed your number from muscle memory after a couple of glasses of wine anyway because I just wanted to hear your voice. I'm sorry I sighed in the moments of comfortable silence and said I miss him when there was a lot I could have said instead. The fact that I still care about the boys who leave is a testament to how difficult it is for me to let things go completely, but I'm only human. What I do want them to know, though, is that I don't regret any of it. They made me stronger, proved that I don't need them anymore. They shouldn't bother coming back.

I'm sorry that at first I pretended like you weren't my everything, because you were. You were all that ever mattered, and all that ever will. I underestimated the chance that you might feel the same way, regardless of the only confirmation I needed being clear in your eyes on the occasions when you thought I wasn't intently staring back. There is no room for excuses, because all we are used to now is death and destruction in the midst of a clock that never stops ticking. I would keep apologizing until my last breath, because I know we're going to last, but –

I'm not sorry we met. I'm not sorry I chose to stay. I'm not sorry that I would kill for you, ruin perfectly good architecture for you, and turn against the rest of the world in a millisecond for you. I'd do it all for you – for us, for an opportunity, for the purpose of keeping the fire that whispers our names burning bright in the night, because we define the true meaning of glory. The boys who make the mistake of believing we are nothing but pretty faces and nice legs tend to quickly realize that we are the real survivors and fighters, and we can't help but smirk when we walk past and practically hear them thinking There goes hell in high heels and combat boots. We are what makes it work, and we are the ones who could easily tear it apart. No one should ever forget that.

So although I don't expect you to, I'll still plead – please don't leave. Don't leave because I love you, because I can't do any of this without you, because there remain an unthinkable amount of wars to win. And despite it all, we are so much more.

A/N: I actually don't know what this is? I'd really appreciate reviews, but if you like this enough to favorite it, please don't favorite without reviewing!