When a boy tells you he loves you, it is only then that he starts becoming inconsistent.
When a boy tells you he loves you, it is late. The words feel like a spilled glass of red wine on a plain white shirt. The words feel full, soft, lush, shaky. You will smile; he feels like an unforgiving conquest.
When a boy tells you he loves you, its through a phone call from halfway across the country. The words twist and hesitate around your lips like dried pink bubblegum. You give in; he’s the victim.
When a boy tells you he loves you, your lungs contract into a sigh of relief. Its a white Christmas. You goad yourself into believing it. He was only away on business.
When a boy tells you he loves you, it is only then that your best friend adjusts her purse strap on her shoulder, fidgets, and looks straight into your eyes and says “Don’t do it. Don’t ever do it.”