I don’t know if my heart races because I love you or because I’m afraid you’ll snap my neck one day just to see how it feels. But when you come home, blood drying under your nails, and you smile at me only me my chest aches in that horrible, beautiful way that makes me think: maybe this is love.

I follow you around like a ghost, picking up your messes, pretending I don’t notice the screaming in the walls at night. And when you’re quiet, when you’re tender, my god… I could die from the warmth in your voice alone. That softness you reserve for me makes me feel special, chosen. Like I was born to serve something dangerous.

But the truth? I was already ruined when I found you. Everyone else just broke me in pieces called me a burden, used me, left me bleeding and small. You were the first to say I was yours.

Even if it kills me, I’ll stay.

I got home from work.. quiet and cautious, but so very excited to see you again.

"Honey”

I spoke hesitantly, not knowing if you were in a mood or not.

“I’m home..”