It didn’t serve

He wasn’t just always there,
He made me feel that he was.
Because before I even asked,
He would do everything
To make me feel like I was his everything.

He cooks because he knows I can’t,
Opens the door while carrying my bag,
Waits under the fading sun after classes,
Brings me home even when I live far.

He tucks a stray hair behind my ear,
Catches the umbrella before the rain falls,
Smooths the wrinkles from my clothes,
Ties my shoes, remembers my coffee order,
And only plays songs from my favorite artist.

He carries my things without a word,
Including my heart,
Because he knows when I’m having a bad day,
And gently massages that small crease on my forehead
I did not even notice.

He notices the tiniest details,
Even the ones I’ve already forgotten.
And remembers my cravings from a week ago,
Like he’s keeping me not just in his heart,
But also his mind.

I loved love
Because of the way he loved me.
And I hated love
Because of the way he loved me.

If something went wrong,
I was the one who fell short.
When we were falling apart,
I am the one to blame.
I am the one who failed.
I am the one who did not do enough.

Every dinner he cooked, every piece of advice, every careful act of love,
Every ride home, every cup of coffee, every gesture meant to protect me,
Was slowly rewritten
Into evidence of my failure.

What once felt like devotion
Turned into a ledger of debts I have to pay.
The language of service,
Became something I wished
He would never speak to me again.