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love is coming in waves. saturated with hate, jealousy, and humility. i can feel it happening again. he tells me it's just one of my moods. i say it's more. alone. i'm left to my own devices, and, assuming the worst (like always) i go mad. i'm not in control of it anymore. keeping him means abandoning myself, and i'm going numb. i mustn't blame him. we have created the perfect atmosphere for love's cruelty. maybe first loves are never meant to last. maybe they are stepping stones to better days. lessons learned the hard way. i've loved him so forcefully, so rash, i could never love another man this way. never with the same rawness. he has come, and when i watch him go, i will know he is the last of his kind. my tender man could never last.