He didn’t buy me flowers

He didn’t buy me flowers

Neither did he lavish me with silly expensive gifts
He did however always get me my favorite chocolate, knew exactly how I loved my coffee and he did my heart justice.
We hardly ever went out for dinner
Heck we hardly ever turned on the stove
But we always sat on the kitchen counter in our underwear eating pizza and virgin mojitos with that extra minty taste

On some days, I used to spend almost two hours in getting my hair and makeup done
He would say, “Honey doesn’t that foundation stuff make your face look a bit pale sometimes?”
I would laugh, he wouldn’t. He didn’t like my face caked up with that stuff
But in the morning, he’d stuff his face in mine, whether it was made up or not.
He’d almost go deaf when I tell him, “Baby I have to brush my teeth first.”
But he didn’t listen. He just didn’t care, he was jealous of my toothbrush being the first thing my lips touched when I woke up…

He wasn’t impressed by my little black dress
Instead he held my face to the dark skies, and promised to always try and fill my thoughts with nothing but love and light
He didn’t complete me,
As a matter of fact, he ripped me apart
He was a puzzle I couldn’t figure out, one I could never find answers to. And it terrified me. Shook me. It tore me apart

He never liked my sometimes erratic behavior,
I was like a pair of boots one could wear whether during the rain or even when it shined. I was both loud and soft. I could go for 3 parties in a night, come back home and tuck myself in my corner and write my heart out.
It confused him. I confused him
I could tell that my extreme habits were a poison to him, but he never saw poison, he never saw addiction
He only saw love

He never bought me flowers
But he wrote me poetry. He didn’t know how to write well but he wrote with his heart, his soul bled through his fingertips
He was that guy who saw the sadness between my lips which were struggling to smile
He was the world cracking open between my feet, and even though I sometimes wore my heart like a hurricane upon my chest; he would come to the eye of the storm and kiss the dark clouds away.
And even if he never bought me flowers, He grew them in the empty garden in my heart and He was my most genuine form of love

❤